Postmodern Creationism: A Better Story

Add a new category to the creationist bloc in America: postmodernists who don’t “believe” anything.

Journalist Virginia Heffernan has caused a mini-uproar this week by explaining why she’s a creationist.

In a recent essay on Yahoo! News, Heffernan argued that the stories of creationism are simply more “compelling” than those of mainstream science.  In her telling, she wanted to embrace science, since she loves technology.  But science just doesn’t have the right stories.  In her words,

I was amused and moved, but considerably less amused and moved by the character-free Big Bang story (“something exploded”) than by the twisted and picturesque misadventures of Eve and Adam and Cain and Abel and Abraham.

Predictably, science pundits reacted with dismay.  University of Chicago biologist Jerry Coyne lambasted Heffernan’s “remarkable celebration of ignorance.”   University of Minnesota biologist PZ Myers noted Heffernan’s anti-science history: “every time she meets a scientist she opens her mouth and says something stupid . . . .”

Also predictably, evangelical Christians defended Heffernan.  In the Christian Post, journalist Leonardo Blair noted that Heffernan had become a “lightning rod for ridicule,” but that she has also won support from religious people for “standing by her beliefs.”

It seems to me, however, that both the fervent anti-creationist commentators and the evangelical pro-creationists ignore the central thrust of Heffernan’s essay.  Heffernan is not making a case for the truth of creationism.  Indeed, as she explains, “I guess I don’t ‘believe’ that the world was created in a few days, but what do I know? Seems as plausible (to me) as theoretical astrophysics, and it’s certainly a livelier tale.”  This is not a full-throated defense of Biblical creationism.  Instead, Heffernan is making a case for the plausibility of creationism.

And, as far as that goes, she’s right.  Creationism is more than just a religious belief.  It is a convincing and intuitive way of understanding humanity’s predicament.  This is why leading science educators have recognized that simply pouring more science on Americans will never convince them of the truths of evolution.

Heffernan’s attitude does not result from childhood brainwashing in the Bible.  Heffernan does not howl at mainstream institutions from the wilds of San Diego or Northern Kentucky.  She complains, instead, that it is hard to admit to creationism in New York restaurants, to acquaintances from her jobs, perhaps, at the New Yorker or New York Times.  With her handy PhD from Harvard, Heffernan’s attitude does not come from a lack of mainstream education.

Heffernan’s avowed creationism, instead, comes from an over-abundance of mainstream education.  Her attack on mainstream science comes not from Genesis, as she suggests elsewhere, but from Derrida.

Other creation/evolution commentators have made similar points, without going as far as embracing creationism.  Jason Rosenhouse, for instance, in his book Among the Creationists, admits that creationist explanations of life and humanity are much more appealing than the messy truths of mainstream science.

Unlike Rosenhouse, Heffernan takes the postmodern leap.  IF we have no Archimedean perspective from which we can judge competing truth claims, THEN we are forced to choose between competing narratives.  BECAUSE creationism has the better narrative, Heffernan concludes, she must call herself a creationist.

Plus, it generates better headlines to say “I’m a creationist” than to say “Creationism tells better stories of humanity’s origins, but I don’t really believe those stories, but you gotta admit, they are better stories, plus scientists can sometimes be jerks.”

 

Creation Wins the Culture War

Quick: What rhymes with mitochondria?

It’s a tough question, and it helps illustrate the uphill cultural battle evolution has faced for the past hundred years in America.

A fluffy piece in Sunday’s New York Times gives us an example of this persistent imbalance.

The article describes the results of an outreach program to New York City teens, Science Genius.  The program hopes to use hip-hop as a sweetener to connect urban youth to science.

A victory for evolution and mainstream science?  I don’t think so.  I’m no creationist, but I can’t help but conclude that pop music seems to be more suitable for creationism than mainstream science.

Though the supporters of the NYC program claim some limited successes, even those claims highlight the deep difficulties of engaging young people of every cultural background with mainstream science.

We don’t want to make too much out of just one example, but listeners are not likely to be much moved by rhymes like the following: “Bioclast, foliation, and that granite, . . . I can tell you something ‘bout an aphanitic.”

I applaud the student, and the program, but rapping the truths of mainstream science doesn’t fall as trippingly off the tongue as those of creationism.

How much evolution music can you name?  Good stuff?

Creationists, on the other hand, can claim all sorts of pop music from the headlining Jonas Brothers to internet-cluttering obscure artists across the world.  Christian and Creation rock has long been an enormous and aggressive cultural presence, as ex-fundamentalist Jonny Scaramanga has remembered.

Where is the evolution-rock?

As critic Jason Rosenhouse perceptively noted in his book Among the Creationists, mainstream science does not have to worry about creationist challenges to the strength of real evolutionary science.  But creationists, Rosenhouse argues, DO have an easy time of constructing narratives that make sense to people.  Mainstream science?  Not so much.

Perhaps this is why people trust their intuition about creation and evolution more than they trust mainstream science.  As Penn State political scientists Michael Berkman and Eric Plutzer noted in their book Evolution, Creationism, and the Battle to Control America’s Classrooms, even the small minority of Americans who agree that mainstream science is firmly evolutionist support the inclusion of creationism in America’s classrooms.  That’s right: even those Americans who recognize that scientists agree about evolution tend to agree that creationism should be part of public science education.

Why is that?  At least part of the reason must be because mainstream science does not offer a compelling story to which Americans can cling.  There is no telos, no plot, no conflict (in the literary sense), no protagonists worth following.

Creationism, on the other hand, makes a good deal of intuitive sense.  It makes sense that a world so complex, so morally challenging, must have been created on purpose.

Evolutionary science, for its part, needs to make the case that humanity occurred somehow, but we don’t know exactly how.  It needs to explain that the feelings people have of purpose, of cosmological intent, are only vestiges of happenstance.

A hard bill of goods to sell on the pop-culture marketplace.  Just like it is hard to find a rhyme for mitochondria.

 

 

 

Scientists Are Dumb

What do elite scientists know about religion?

Not much, according to sociologist Elaine Howard Ecklund.  Asking these out-of-touch elite scientists for advice about religion is akin to asking residents of a nudist colony for advice about fashion.

If anyone would know, it would be Ecklund.  In her study of scientists, between 2005 and 2008, she surveyed 1700 scientists from what she called “elite” schools (157-158).  She announced her goal in her 2010 book Science vs. Religion: to give voice to “the scientists whose voices have been thus far overlooked in the science-and-religion debates” (x).

To this reader, Ecklund seems to have made a strange decision to include social scientists—economists, political scientists—in her sample.  It seems a better fit to call her sample elite “academics” instead of elite “scientists.”  Other reviewers have pointed out different complaints.

But whatever the merits or faults of the study as a whole, it tells us something about the connection between some elite academics and the rest of America.  As Ecklund describes, the religious affiliation of her sample does not match that of Americans as a whole.  Among her sample, only two percent identified as “evangelical Protestant,” compared to twenty-eight percent among the general population.  Only two tenths percent as “Black Protestant,” compared to the general public’s eight percent.  Nine percent identified as Catholic, compared to twenty-seven percent of the public.  Sixteen percent were Jewish, compared to the general population’s two percent.  Perhaps most interesting, given recent attention to the rise of the “nones,” a full fifty-three percent of Ecklund’s sample claimed no religious affiliation, compared to sixteen percent of the rest of us. (15).

The same trend was true when it came to professing atheism or agnosticism.  In Ecklund’s sample, just over one-third called themselves atheists, compared to a mere two percent of the American population.  Thirty percent called themselves agnostic, compared to the general four percent.  And a relatively meager nine percent agreed with the statement “I have no doubts about God’s existence,” compared to a whopping sixty-three percent of the general public (16).

These elite academics, then, certainly do not match the rest of America in religious ideas or identity.  That really doesn’t come as much of a surprise.  But Ecklund argues more provocatively that this religious quirkiness among elite academics also creates a sort of self-perpetuating echo chamber.  It creates what Ecklund calls three “myths scientists believe” (152).

First, Ecklund charges, elite academics tend to think that if they ignore religion, it will go away.  Second, they too often equate all religion with an imagined bogeyman of “fundamentalism” (153).  And elite academics tend to think that “All evangelical Christians are against science” (155).

The utter lack of evidence for all these myths does not stop elite academics from feeling correct, even intellectually superior to those who question their blundering assumptions.  As Ecklund argues, non-religious academics often have little idea even about the working of religion on their own elite campuses, “much less about what drives a typical American worshipper” (8).

Ecklund depicts an environment on some elite college campuses that encourages, or at least allows, growths of strange ideological excess.  One physicist she interviewed—admittedly one extreme end of Ecklund’s sample—described religion as a “virus” to which he is “immune” (13).

Most of her interviewees did not express such virulent hostility, but many of the traditionally religious folk still expressed a felt need to live a “closeted faith” (43).  Even when they had some religious colleagues, these elite academics often felt surrounded by angry anti-religion.  One self-identified “Christian” academic told Ecklund about a conversation with a colleague about their students’ poor academic preparation.  The fault, this Christian was told, was with “stupid intelligent design.  It’s stupid Christianity” (45).  Her colleague had not meant to offend, but had simply assumed that such comments could not be considered offensive.

In this self-reinforcing world of arrogant ignorance, many of the academics in Ecklund’s study made strange and unwarranted assumptions.  One biologist, for example, assumed that “mature” students would not consider creationism.  Advanced students, this biologist explained, “are just not religious in the first place.”  But this biologist, Ecklund points out, really had no idea about the religious ideas or backgrounds of his students (78).

Even on their own campuses, most of Ecklund’s sample reported woeful ignorance of attempts to promote dialogue between science and religion.  “The reality of university life,” Ecklund argued, “does not match these scientists’ ideal” (98).

Yet this ignorance among elite academics did not create a questioning or humble attitude.  One social scientist, for instance, explained how she began her classes.  “You don’t have to distance yourself from religion,” she told her new students, “and think about it from an outside perspective, but you do if you want to succeed in this class.  And if you don’t want to do that, then you need to leave” (84).

How can such smart people say such dumb things?  How can elite academics profess such blinkered ideas without even recognizing their own biases?  As a product of two of the “elite” schools in Ecklund’s sample (Washington University in St. Louis and University of Wisconsin—Madison), I can attest to the fact that the environments in such places can lead to a perception of a single, right, “progressive” orthodoxy.  But even academics should be allowed their own opinions, right?  Even if they are grossly out of line with popular notions?

The real question, to my way of thinking, is this: How can people who have purportedly dedicated their professional lives to increasing their knowledge allow themselves such lamentable ignorance when it comes to religion?

Jerry Coyne Joins the Creationists

H/T: Sensuous Curmudgeon

Has Jerry Coyne really allied with creationists?

If you follow the creation/evolution wars, you’re likely familiar with the work of Coyne, a biologist and a leading voice in the long-running creation/evolution controversy.  Coyne famously argues that religion and science are incompatible.  In his book Why Evolution Is True, Coyne elegantly and concisely made the case for evolution and demolished the claims of creationists.

So how could this arch-atheist anti-creationist have joined with creationists?

In a recent interview with Haaretz, Coyne suggested that evolution went hand-in-hand with atheism, a strong central government and an expansive tax-funded social safety net.  In doing so, Coyne has added his voice to a long creationist intellectual tradition.

Science and religion, Coyne stated in this interview, “are polar opposites, both methodologically and philosophically. . . . Such contradictions [between differing religious truths], of course, render the term ‘religious truth’ ridiculous.”

In order to approach truth, Coyne believes, we must move away from religion and toward science.  To help the process along, Coyne told Haaretz, society must embrace a bigger government and a more egalitarian economy.

“The Scandinavian countries . . .” Coyne argued,

Have the most highly developed social-welfare systems in the world, and they are also the least religious countries ‏(for example, only 23 percent of Norwegians and 34 percent of Swedes describe themselves as religious‏). They are also the most receptive to evolution.

When citizens feel as if they have a government-provided safety net, Coyne told interviewer Smadar Reisfeld, they are less likely to cling to the false comfort of religion.

If scientists hoped to convince Americans of evolution’s obvious truth value, they must overthrow the false idol of religion.  Instead, Coyne said, “the government should intervene to a certain degree in order to give people a sense of security. . . . A more just, caring, egalitarian society must be created.”

So how does this sensible and pragmatic progressivism put Coyne in the creationist camp?

For generations, creationists have argued that evolution will and must lead to both atheism and socialism.  My hunch is that Coyne would not accept the “socialist” label, but Coyne’s vision of a government-led, Scandinavian-style social contract is precisely the sort of structure many creationists would call “socialist.”

At the dawn of the long creation/evolution struggle, for instance, William Jennings Bryan warned that evolution could only lead to atheism.  “Atheists, Agnostics, and Higher Critics begin with Evolution,” Bryan insisted in 1921, “They build on that.”  [Bryan, The Bible and Its Enemies: An Address Delivered at the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago (Chicago: Bible Institute Colportage Association, 1921), 19.]

As historian Edward Larson has pointed out, lawyers in 1926 Tennessee defended the anti-evolution Butler Law as a way to protect young students from creeping communism, not just a way to save them from the ideas of evolution itself.    [Larson, Summer for the Gods (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001), 215.]

Throughout the twentieth century, anti-evolutionists have insisted that evolution must lead to—or come from—both atheism and socialism.

By the end of the twentieth century, for example, leading creation-science pundit Henry Morris equated evolution with every ideological terror of the century.  “Marxism, socialism, and communism, no less than Nazism, are squarely based on evolutionism.” [Morris, The Long War Against God (Master Books, 2000), 83).]

Perhaps Professor Coyne might not relish the company.  But by insisting that thinking people must choose between science and religion, Coyne encourages creationist dogma.  By tying evolution to large government and restricted capitalism, Coyne agrees with generations of the most fervent creationists.

 

2016, Rubio, and the Age of the Earth

Senator Marco Rubio’s comments to a GQ reporter have attracted more than their share of attention lately.  When asked about the age of the earth, Rubio hedged:

“I’m not a scientist, man. I can tell you what recorded history says, I can tell  you what the Bible says, but I think that’s a dispute amongst theologians and I  think it has nothing to do with the gross domestic product or economic growth of  the United States. I think the age of the universe has zero to do with how our  economy is going to grow. I’m not a scientist. I don’t think I’m qualified to  answer a question like that. At the end of the day, I think there are multiple  theories out there on how the universe was created and I think this is a country  where people should have the opportunity to teach them all. I think parents  should be able to teach their kids what their faith says, what science says.  Whether the Earth was created in 7 days, or 7 actual eras, I’m not sure we’ll  ever be able to answer that. It’s one of the great mysteries.”

This answer certainly sounds like a dodge from a 2016-conscious politician.  Keenly aware of the thinking among the GOP base, and with an eye to the 2016 presidential primaries, it seems, Rubio carefully gave an answer designed not to offend the sensibilities of young-earth creationists.  Rubio’s language here clearly differentiates him from the true GOP creationist politicians like US Representative Paul Broun.  Good science?  Definitely not.  But is it good politics?

Writing in the New York Times, Ross Douthat offered a politician’s answer that might serve the GOP better in the long run.  Aspiring GOP leaders, Douthat suggested, could respond to gotcha questions in this way:

“I’m not a scientist, but I respect the scientific consensus that says that the earth is — what, something like a few billions of years old, right? I don’t have any trouble reconciling that consensus with my faith. I don’t think the 7 days in Genesis have to be literal 24-hour days. I don’t have strong opinions about the specifics of how to teach these issues — that’s for school boards to decide, and I’m not running for school board — but I think religion and science can be conversation partners, and I think kids can benefit from that conversation.

Douthat makes the excellent point that this is more a crisis of Christianity than of the GOP.  The notion of a young earth has only been used as a litmus test for fundamentalist Protestantism in the last fifty years or so.  For centuries before that, Bible Christians could legitimately disagree about the age of the earth without being accused of backsliding away from true faith.

However, for someone like Rubio with his eyes on the White House, Douthat’s suggestion does not fit.  Politicians don’t win national office by moral or intellectual courage.  They win by offering a recipe of ideological notions that satisfy their constituents.  And these days, like it or lump it, the GOP base has strong feelings in favor of a young earth.

ILYBYGTH in the Chronicle of Higher Education

Hot off the presses!  I’m happy to say that the Chronicle of Higher Education is running a commentary of mine in this morning’s edition.

Readers of ILYBYGTH might not find much new in this piece.  I argue that many evolution educators display a woeful and unproductive misunderstanding of creationism.  For instance, evolution supporters generally assume that creationists such as US Representative Paul Broun must be utterly ignorant of science.  In fact, Broun and many other creationists often have degrees in science.  Broun, for instance, has a BS in chemistry and an MD.

As political scientists Michael Berkman and Eric Plutzer have demonstrated, creationists often know plenty about evolution.  Creationists just don’t believe it.

Another tricky point about Representative Broun’s particular style of creationism rests in the nature of representative democracy.  As I ask in the CHE piece, “Do we really want to demand than an elected official not fight for the ideas in which his constituents believe?”

I also appreciate the comments on the online CHE article.  There are some of the usual displays of huffy antagonism.  For instance, one reader suggested that the best lenses to understand creationism would be “abnormal psychology” and “cult theory.”  But other commenters raised more intriguing points.  One suggested that the real issue is that American education tends not to teach students anything they don’t know already.  Another pointed out that any teaching that seems to come between parents and children will be resisted.

I’ll look forward to reading more comments as they come in.  Especially since many of them make excellent counter-arguments.

 

Marsden & Gould on Creationist Science

What is science?

Andrew Hartman offers a review of some of the keenest analyses of fundamentalist/creationist science at US Intellectual History.

Hartman looks at a few essays from the mid-1980s about the nature of science in the intellectual world of conservative evangelical Protestants.  Hartman reviews an essay by leading religious historian George Marsden  in which Marsden sums up the fundamentalist difference.  The key to understanding creationist science, Marsden argued, is to understand the Baconian/Common Sense roots of fundamentalists’ self understanding.

Marsden’s analysis certainly fit the intellectual world of the 1920s.  In that era, leading fundamentalists articulated a different vision of science, one that did not match the world of leading mainstream scientists.

Since the 1960s, however, the scientific visions of creationism have transformed themselves.  Though 1920s creationists might insist with some justification that the jury was still out on natural selection, later generations of creationists have had to come to terms with the fact that mainstream science had embraced evolution.  More recent arguments that evolution is “just a theory” often do not match the intellectual sophistication that 1920s fundamentalists demonstrated about the nature of science.  Instead, later generations of creationist intellectuals have moved away from the Baconian/Common Sense vision.  Most often, creationists have derided evolutionary science as mistaken, fallible, closedminded, and even duplicitous.  But they have not as often criticized the framework of mainstream science as having slipped away from a proper Baconian framework, at least not nearly as often as did 1920s fundamentalists.

Required Reading: Evolution, Creationism, and the Battle to Control America’s Classrooms

For those who care about creationism, evolution, and America’s schools, stop reading this shine-ola and go get your hands on a copy of Michael Berkman’s and Eric Plutzer’s Evolution, Creationism, and the Battle to Control America’s Classrooms (New York: Cambridge Univ Press, 2010).  Not only is this the best “street-level” analysis about the way real teachers teach evolution and creationism, but the authors’ approach sheds light on schooling and culture far beyond the bounds of biology instruction.

Image source: Cambridge University Press

The same authors released some of their survey data in an article in Science in January 2011.  That National Science Foundation-funded survey of 926 high-school biology teachers from across the United States offered dramatic results.  A full 13% of respondents taught creationism or intelligent design in their public-school biology classrooms.  Twenty-eight percent taught recognizably evolutionary biology.  The rest, roughly 60%, muddled through in the middle, teaching neither or both evolution and creationism.  This book is built around the same survey responses, but it contains much more.

The authors argue compellingly that the evolution/creation deadlock involves three moving parts.  Berkman and Plutzer label these the procedural issues, the substantive issues, and the issues concerning the autonomy of teachers.  In other words, the tangle of evolution includes issues of who decides what gets taught, the science and religion involved, and the final decisions of teachers themselves.

Not surprisingly, these political scientists conclude that the real question here is political.  More than simply science, more than just religion, the contest is at heart “a political struggle over who decides, a question central to democratic politics” (31).

Perhaps the most attention-grabbing part of the authors’ Science article in January 2011 was the sheer volume of anti-evolution education that went on in American public-school biology classes.  As they argue in the pages of the book, their 13% number as a mark for the number of teachers who actively teach creationism or intelligent design is actually a lowball.  The real number may surge more toward 21% (138).

For those like me who want more evolution taught in America’s schools, Berkman and Plutzer’s findings may be profoundly disheartening.  For instance, in addition to the very high numbers of teachers who omit evolution, teach both ideas, or teach explicit creationism, the authors conclude that teachers don’t care too much about changing state standards in science (160).  Thus, while evolution promoters may work hard to improve those standards, the authors here suggest that actual classroom practice will likely not be much affected.

The most important factor in teachers’ choices about evolution education, Berkman and Plutzer conclude, remains teachers’ personal opinions.   Although some factors, such as a full-semester college course devoted to evolutionary biology, may tend to improve the quality and amount of evolution education offered by teachers, such changes pale in significance compared to teachers’ beliefs.  Dwarfing every other factor, if teachers don’t believe evolution, they don’t teach it (186).

Another powerful contribution of the book is the authors’ application of the notion that teachers function as what political scientists call “street-level bureaucrats” (149).  Like other such functionaries, teachers often teach what their communities want them to teach.  In the United States, despite the chagrin this causes among evolutionary scientists, large majorities want their public schools to teach both evolution and creationism, or even creationism alone (49).  This is true even among those American adults who agree that mainstream scientists have agreed on the veracity of evolution.  Berkman and Plutzer analyze a fistful of polls and surveys to conclude that, even among the 52% of adults who agree that mainstream science has embraced evolution, only 20% want only evolution taught in their local public schools.  You read that right.  Even when Americans acknowledge the scientific consensus in favor of evolution, they still favor teaching both evolution and creationism, or even creationism alone.

As “street-level bureaucrats,” teachers tend to fit in with their local communities.  Among the 926 teachers who responded to Berkman and Plutzer’s survey, most agree with the attitudes in their area.  For instance, among the 136 “most cosmopolitan” school districts, only 4% of teachers taught young-earth creationism.  On the flip side, among the 139 “most traditional” school districts, a whopping 37% of teachers taught young-earth creationism (198).

The book contains chapter after chapter of survey analyses like these.  If you’re like me, you’ll want to buy a copy to keep on your desk as a reference for all the different surveys and multivariate regression charts the authors include.  But the survey and polling data are not the only strength of the book.  Also extremely helpful is the authors’ sketch of the structure of the durable evolution/creation controversy.  As they point out, we will never make heads or tails of it if we understand it as mainly a scientific or religious dispute.  Those “substantive” issues are very important, but they are not the whole problem.  This is why, for instance, many mainstream scientists will insist that there is no controversy over the teaching of evolution.  They mean, of course, that the scientific community does not dispute whether or not evolution should be taught.  If we end there, however, we will remain hopelessly flummoxed over the nature of the continuing controversy.  Because, of course, there is a controversy.

The authors suggest two other important dimensions.  First, we need to get our heads around the “procedural” elements at play.  Where do decisions about teaching get made?  By courts, to protect minorities?  By legislatures, to represent majorities?  By professional bodies such as the American Academy for the Advancement of Science, to ensure superior expertise?  If we ignore these crucial questions we’ll never understand the nature of the impasse.

Also, Berkman and Plutzer inject a new element into these discussions.  Unlike the generations of historians, scientists, theologians, and political scientists that have preceded them, the authors emphasize the critical importance of the “autonomy of teachers” (29).  Teachers can and do consistently make daily decisions about the kind of instruction that goes on in America’s public schools.  Without looking at the impact of those decisions, we will never be able to wrap our heads around the true contours of this culture-war debate.

The authors conclude that these questions remain, at root, a fundamental “political struggle over who decides” (31).  This insight alone makes a significant contribution to stale discussions over the nature of evolution/creation.  Some of our brightest minds have foundered over this simple truth.  In a recent book, for instance, philosopher Philip Kitcher implies that the conflict has lasted so long primarily because the two sides have not adequately understood one another.  In Living with Darwin (2007), Kitcher writes, “detailed replies” to creationist challenges have calmed the controversy temporarily (3).  Yet, due to lack of understanding by creationists, Kitcher suggests “we shall not escape the cycle of controversy until it is completely clear what lies at the bottom of it all” (xi).  Clearly, Kitcher knows the science involved.  He knows the theology involved.  But his implication that a clear enough explanation will somehow clear the air ignores Berkman and Plutzer’s convincing point: this is not about understanding, this is about power.

No matter how brilliant and erudite Kitcher’s explanations of evolution, no matter how clear and cogent his arguments, Kitcher and his ilk will ultimately have little effect on the course of the creation/evolution debates.  Of the teachers who teach creationism in Berkman and Plutzer’s survey, 32% had completed a college-level semester-long course devoted entirely to evolutionary science, 55% held a bachelor’s degree in science, 13% held a graduate degree in science, and 49% had earned 40 or more college credits in biology courses.  It is not that teachers of creationism don’t know the evidence for evolution.  They simply reject it (186).  After all, how clear and convincing would an argument based on the Old and New Testament have to be to convince Kitcher of the truths of creationism?

For all its explanatory power, Evolution, Creationism, and the Battle to Control America’s Classrooms includes a few minor hiccups.  First of all, the authors insightfully note that the essence of the evolution/creation struggle has been a struggle for control of educational decisions.  But among the groups involved–“Federal judges, scientists, education policy makers, and teachers” (13)—the authors curiously omit parents as direct curricular decision-makers.  Since at least the 1920s, activists have insisted on the rights of parents to control the curriculum for their own children.  Recently, in places such as New Hampshire and Missouri, as I’ve argued in these pages and in the Washington Post’s Answer Sheet, state laws have changed the playing field.  These new laws have finally introduced what Berkman and Plutzer might call direct curricular democracy.  Not only can judges, scientists, policy makers, and teachers take part in this durable battle, but parents can and have successfully exerted their significant political influence.  The authors’ failure to include parents as interested and influential parties is a puzzling omission.

In addition, as political scientists, the authors overlook some simple historical errors.  They date the end of the American Civil War, for instance, to 1869 (66).  In a similar slip, they refer to the leading creationist Seventh-day Adventist Church as the Seventh Adventist Church (91).

But such minor quibbles do not detract from the overall argument.

The authors will likely continue to attract the most attention for their original survey data of biology teachers.  And those data are indeed compelling.  But far more important to understanding the nature of the creation/evolution debates are the authors’ arguments about the inherently political and deeply local nature of those debates.  They are not decided in state houses, but in school houses.  They are not decided in courtrooms, but in classrooms.

 

The Boss on Evolution

I don’t like Bruce Springsteen.  Nothing personal.  He may be a wonderful guy.  But I’ve never been a fan of his music or his careful no-sleeves New Jersey populism.

So I may be the last person to find out about Springsteen’s 1988 creation/evolution ditty, “Part Man, Part Monkey.”

Springsteen argues that the best evidence for evolution lies in his carnal, bestial sexual desires.  As far as I know, Springsteen’s lyrics may be the most popular comment on the 1925 Scopes Trial ever. As he sings:

They prosecuted some poor sucker in these United States

For teachin’ that man  descended from the apes

They coulda settled that case without a fuss or  fight

If they’d seen me chasin’ you sugar

Thru the jungle last night

They’d  a called in that jury and a one two three said

‘Part  man part monkey, definitely’

Springsteen, I’m sure, can get along just fine without my endorsement.  But his lyrics endorse a particular vision of the meaning of evolution that will make evolution educators howl.  In this song, evolution means that humanity came straight out of monkeys.  Evolution means, in this interpretation, that humans will remain animal-like.  As any evolution educator will tell you, this has been one of the most enduring popular misunderstandings of neo-Darwinian evolution.  Since Darwin’s Origin emerged in 1859, an understanding that “evolution” meant that humans had monkey grandparents has proven surprisingly difficult for evolution educators to overcome.

The Boss both embodies and promotes this vision of the meanings of evolution.  As he proclaims,

Well did God make man in a breath of holy  fire

Or did he crawl on up out of  the muck and mire

Well the man on  the street

Believes what the Bible  tells him so

But you can ask me  mister because I know

Tell them  soul-suckin’ preachers to come on down and see

Part  man part monkey, baby that’s me

 

Required Reading: David Long and an Ethnography of Creationism

Gallup polls are what they are.  The numbers can be misleading from time to time.  As Homer Simpson scornfully concluded, “Facts!. . . pffft.  Facts can be used to prove anything that’s even remotely true.”

Image source: Dead Homer Society

But when polls keep saying the same thing, it makes sense to listen.  According to Gallup, from the mid-1980s through today, nearly half of American adults agree that the earth was created in “pretty much its present form within the last ten thousand years or so.”

Evolutionists like me tend to be shocked by this number.  How is this possible?

As David E. Long argues in his book Evolution and Religion in American Education: An Ethnography (Springer, 2011), the old evolutionists’ answers don’t hold up anymore.  Some evolutionists tend to assume that creationism, especially young-earth creationism, is similar to a public-health problem.  As soon as enough people are exposed to the saving truth of evolution, this argument goes, creationists will quickly realize the errors of their ways.  This assumption doesn’t match the historical facts, but it still has its share of true believers.  As we noted here recently, Bill Nye “The Science Guy” attracted a lot of attention when he endorsed this sort of fallacy.

Another problem, Long argues, is an implicit “deficiency model” among evolution educators.  These educators, Long asserts, would not be likely to blame students from households without a lot of books for being somewhat behind in their reading skills.  Yet they do blame students from creationist households for resisting evolution.

Long hopes to challenge these approaches to understanding creationism in America.  As he puts it, too many educators act as if learning evolution were a simple matter of “being shown discrete points of Truth and adding these bits to our respective Truth-piles” (14, emphasis in original).  If this were the case, Long argues, “there simply would be no societal issue over evolution.”  Obviously the deadlock over such issues as evolution, scientific creationism, and intelligent design proves that much more is going on here.

Long’s study joins others in offering a new approach.  As did Michael Berkman and Eric Plutzer in their study of biology education, Long hopes to get inside the heads of those who are somehow avoiding evolution education.  Berkman and Plutzer found that anti-evolutionists had not necessarily been isolated from the truths of evolution.  Instead, many anti-evolutionists “choose to ignore scientific arguments demonstrating evolution.”[*]  Knowledge of evolution, according to their large study funded by the National Science Foundation, is often relatively high among those who dispute it most fervently.  This does not match the fantasies of science fans such as Bill Nye.  Long’s study, like that of Berkman and Plutzer, promises to unravel this apparent mystery.

Instead of asking, even implicitly, “what’s wrong with these creationist students?”, Long wants to ask, “what in fact do Creationists have that makes the study of evolution troublesome or even dangerous?” (15, emphasis in original.)

Long himself grew up in a conservative Protestant family.  He remembers his mother telling him sadly that he was going to hell (11).  But this book is neither an apology for creationism nor an attack on creationists.  Instead, Long offers an ethnography of creationism in action.  He conducted interviews with thirty-one students at a state university along the Ohio River.  The results make for arresting reading.

One student, a non-traditional student who grew up as a child of missionaries, reported that she had not learned any evolution before she got to college.  Sitting in the large lecture halls, she told Long that a professor made her feel distinctly inferior.  She remembered the lecturer’s attitude:  “If you believe in God creating the earth, then pretty much you’re an idiot.  And he obviously didn’t use those words, but that’s pretty much what he said.  And I remember thinking . . . What is he talking about?. . . like, he should just go around and ask people to raise their hands ‘who believes in this and who doesn’t’!” (36).

This student, “Esther,” told Long that she had no problem with the academic challenge of evolution.  In her words, “I take those really big classes, because it’s really easy to excel in those huge classes.  I mean, I got like a hundred on every test.  You have to be an idiot pretty much not to.  If you just sit, and you listen to what they’re saying, and you know how to take tests, it’s very easy to do well in those classes” (36).  Long wrestles with the important questions this sort of testimony evokes.  For students like Esther, what does it mean to “know” evolution?  What does it mean to feel belittled for one’s background, even if it is done unintentionally?

Another thoughtful creationist interviewee told Long that accepting the truth of evolution would mean “a lot of work for me to change my worldview, a lot of time, a lot of alienation from friends” (41).  Long asked what it would mean if somehow this student—who had been homeschooled into his creationist views—what it would mean if somehow this student found out that humans had really evolved.  The student replied, “It would be a complete crisis.  It would be really tough” (41).  As Long notes, this is more than a scientific situation.  This is an entire life wrapped up in creationism.

Long argues that evolution educators have not sufficiently wrestled with the existential anxiety at stake for some creationist students.  Accepting the truth of evolution, for some, would be more than simply changing one’s mind.  It would be a radical change, and more often, the “positive, commonsensical, and affirmed” path is to simply reject evolution (47).

In most cases, Long concludes that no amount of education really threatens to change students’ worldviews.  Of his batch, only three experienced any sort of profound change, including in their attitudes toward evolution.  These three cases form the basis of Long’s fifth chapter, a chapter that’s worth the price of admission all by itself.  Long describes the case of “Cindy,” a student from a staunchly anti-evolution small town.  Cindy ended up open to the notion of human evolution, but only because she challenged her entire upbringing.  It was not the eye-opening scientific evidence for evolution that convinced her.  Rather, Cindy got pregnant and had an abortion in high school.  The gossipy and cruel reaction of her church drove her away from that worldview.  The entire experience left Cindy open to the idea of human evolution.

Equally fascinating is the case of Renee.  Renee came from a non-religious family, sort of.  She was a biology major with plans on graduate work in pharmacology.  Her non-religious worldview was shattered not by the saving words of Jesus, but rather by pair of bitter divorces.  Renee herself divorced her husband, and her father divorced her mother.  Partly as a result, Renee’s father embraced the creationist-centered conservative Protestantism of his youth.  Though Renee’s mother continued to insist on the family’s atheism, Renee embraced creationist Christianity during a trip with her father to the Creation Museum outside of Cincinnati.

These brief summaries can’t do justice to the fascinating case studies Long explores in this book.  The book itself is a must-read for any outsiders who really want to understand the evolution/creation stalemate in America.  Long’s interviews and analyses offer unmatched insight into the reasons why evolution and creation both create such durable and impermeable worldviews.

Unfortunately, unless and until a paperback edition comes out, Long’s publisher has priced this out of range for most non-institutional buyers.  At $140, it is targeted more at university libraries than interested lay readers.  Hopefully, that will not restrict the number of readers this book attracts.  Joining other nuanced studies like Berkman’s and Plutzer’s, Long’s book promises to make an end run around some of the conceptual difficulties that have stymied so many efforts to understand the durability of creationism in the United States.


[*] Michael Berkman and Eric Plutzer, Evolution, Creationism, and the Battle to Control America’s Classrooms (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 78.  Emphasis in original.