Why Can't An Accident Design A
Machine?
WHEN WE INQUIRE into the question of origins, we are inevitably confronted with the challenge of explaining how a particular physical structure came into being.1 This structure can be a living cell, or the universe itself. The difficulty in explaining the origin of such structures is that the knowledge we seek pertains to something that happened only once. A living cell persists by reproduction,2 and the universe by expansion.3 Yet both had a beginning. The question is, can we ascertain how it happened?
The Role of Science
Events that are reproducible lend themselves to scientific inquiry. Events that are unpredictable lend themselves to statistical inquiry. But singular events lend themselves to "legal" inquiry. The creation of the world or of life are one-time happenings, thus lending themselves to such legal inquiry. The same, incidentally, can be said of the bodily resurrection that history records for Jesus Christ (a one-time happening).4 We must ask what role science can play in such questions.
Since science is properly concerned with reproducible events, it has no jurisdiction whatsoever in questions of origin or destiny. It can and does, however, gather evidence in support of one interpretation or another. In other words, it "assists the court" in gathering evidence on which the jury (you and I) renders a verdict. Unfortunately, we as jurists cannot be entirely objective because we are personally affected by the outcome.
For example, if the universe and all of life were intentionally created by an eternal Being, then the eternal destiny of "the jury" may very well depend on its response to his demands. Conversely, if an accident produced it all,
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then human life is the highest authority and we can live as we please without fear of damning reprisal.
What Are Our Options?
When we ask how a particular physical structure originated, we are really asking how the particular configuration of physical matter came to be organized into what we see. In principle, we can imagine countless possible ways of positioning physical matter throughout space, and of arranging for its motion. Each of these ways is called a distribution. Yet we as observers are inspecting the situation after any one of these particular configurations or structures is in place. How are we to know what brought about the particular distribution we see? There are at least three possibilities: causal happening, intentional arrangement, and accidental circumstance.
The first possibility, that of causality, attributes the particular placement and motion of the physical matter to a long sequence of connected events that ultimately trace to the properties of the subnuclear parts composing the physical matter. In other words, the end product is the result of a long sequence of cause and effect happenings.
The second interpretation, that of intentional arrangement, is that an "intelligence" purposed the particular organization we see in order to produce some desired end result. This final happening thus occurs because of the way the various parts functionally interact with themselves in yielding the intended outcome.
The third idea presupposes that everything happens as a result of random events, and that neither of the above is true; instead, the particular distribution observed has occurred by pure chance through the accidental interplay of the subnuclear parts over extended or even endless time periods.
In attempting to learn which of these three possibilities is responsible for, say, the structure of the universe, we need to recognize that we have before us two, not three, choices. The reason is that causal happenings just shift the question farther back in time. If everything that we see and touch is the result of a long sequence of events caused by the one before, then we must ask how the particular physical properties of the subnuclear parts that led to the structure originated. This is really the question: Is the causal happening due to intentional arrangement or accidental circumstance? In fact, all such inquiries ultimately lead to the question: Does what we see originate from accident or design?
What Makes an Arrangement Special?
At this juncture, it's helpful to realize that of the countless possible ways physical matter can be located in space and time (space-time), the only ones of importance are those we acknowledge to be of interest. For example, suppose that you require a hot fudge sundae with butter pecan ice cream, whipped cream, and a cherry. If you're told that the only available ice cream is vanilla,
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that doesn't do it. Or you're told they have everything but the hot fudge. That doesn't do it either.
We can imagine a lot of different things that can be put into a glass cup, but if you require a hot fudge sundae with butter pecan ice cream, whipped cream, and a cherry, then that is what's important to you. It is likewise with these "distributions" we are discussing; the only ones of importance are those that will unfold into our universe. Nothing else will do. Everything has to be in place to produce the universe, and any departure from what's needed will not bring into existence the universe that we see.
This means that although accidents may, in principle, position physical matter in all different kinds of ways, the only ones of importance are those that generate our universe. But it's here that we run into an amazing thing. Compared to all of the different possible ways physical matter can be accidentally arranged, the number of them capable of bringing the universe that we know into existence is vanishingly small.
As far as we know, there is only one arrangement of physical matter that corresponds to our universe. It isn't that large numbers of arrangements are not possible, but rather, only one of them is important. Only one of them will work. Thus, the likelihood of an accident having created a universe suited for us is, for all practical purposes, zero. So unlikely is such an event that a wind storm through a junkyard would have a better chance of creating a rocket to the moon.
When a particular arrangement of physical matter interacts with itself to produce something that holds meaning for us, the arrangement is special, and the physical system is said to "function with organizational coherence." The reason is that its end result harmonizes with what we, the observer, require.
For example, we could list a number of things on earth that interact with each other to produce the stable temperature we enjoy.5 Although these parameters are discussed in a later chapter, we can say that their organization is special because they functionally interact to give us something we need — namely, the right temperature. The particular way that these things are set up is unlikely because, of the many possible ways that they could have been arranged, the way that they are arranged is precisely what we need. There is thus a very special relationship between the way we find things organized, and the interplay that precisely aligns with the needs of the life those things sustain. This means that a particular arrangement of physical matter is special not in a statistical sense, but rather in terms of the special needs of the life it serves.
Intended versus Accidental Arrangements
This important concept allows us to compare an "intended" versus an "accidental" arrangement, and leads us to the notion of design, which can be illustrated by considering an airplane. We can arrange, for example, the
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parts of an airplane to be distributed in a hundred different ways. We can put one wing in the front and one in the back, or we can reposition the engines to point toward the ground, and so forth. Each of these different arrangements of the airplane's parts will produce a different "system" response when power is applied.
For instance, one way to lay out the parts of an airplane is to aim the blast of hot engine exhaust directly at the fuel tanks in the wing. The system response in such a case will be an explosion. Conversely, when the parts are arranged in the ordinary way, the system response is for the plane to fly. Since this is what we desire, we say that this particular distribution of the airplane's parts is organizationally coherent. All of the parts interact in such a fashion as to produce an end result that is harmonious with the intent of our will, namely, the airplane flies.
Ordinarily, the specification that describes this particular distribution of the airplane's parts is called the design of the airplane. We say that something is designed when it functions in the way intended.
Any distribution of the airplane's parts that would direct hot exhaust gases at the fuel tanks — and thus result in an explosion — is one that obviously would not be in harmony with our intent. It does not exhibit organizational coherence because it functions to yield a useless result. End products that are of no value occur when the parts of a physical system are positioned by accidents instead of intelligence. In short, things "work well" when they are designed well, and the essence of design is intent toward a useful end.
How Do We Know When Something Is Designed?
A physical system is any distribution of physical matter — a clock, a cloud, or a cotton ball. When a living agent examines a physical system, the information contained in his description will image the way he observes its part to be arranged. Information theory introduced in 1949 6 made it possible for the first time in man's recorded history to quantify the degree to which he could specify a physical system. Whenever man quantifies something he assigns numbers to it, and whenever intelligence precisely specifies system quantities in this way, the description is said to contain information. In principle, a living agent is free to observe any physical system, but the systems we choose to observe are those that are of interest to us.
In other words, we choose to look at those systems that we discern to function toward some useful end (in the broadest possible sense of the word). And our descriptions of such systems contain useful information because the locations and motions of the system parts they specify are the only locations and motions that produce what we need when they interact.
In addition to systems that seem to naturally exist (sand dunes, serpents, and snowflakes), we create some of our own. For example, by arranging glass, metal, and phosphor in a certain way we can make a television set. Since this particular distribution of physical parts functions in the way intended,
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we say that it has purpose. The "useful information" in our description of the distribution of its parts (glass, metal, and phosphor) is called its design. Thus, a physical system is said to be designed when an observer discerns that the arrangement of its parts functions with intention.
Was the Universe Designed?
The question of origins is the question of whether or not natural systems that function toward useful ends were intended to function that way. For example, the universe is a physical system that functions toward a useful end. Was it intended to function that way? If so, then it was designed. In principle, all physical systems can be observed and therefore, described. But does each description contain useful information? Does what we see have physical parts that interact and function toward useful ends that are aligned with our desires? And if so, do we say they were designed to do so, or do we say that their existence is the result of an accident?
For example, the bateleur (snake eagle) ordinarily flies at speeds above fifty miles per hour, and in wind currents it glides without effort at speeds in excess of a hundred miles per hour. One would think that the severe turbulence identified with thermal updrafts would disrupt its flight. Yet once aloft, although the bateleur scarcely beats its wings, it flies for hours on end covering distances of over two hundred miles a day. Moreover, it performs impressive aerobatic feats, including full rolls.7
The reason for its great success is its highly functional way of reducing turbulence in the immediate vicinity of its wings. Separate feathery protrusions along the trailing edge of its near six-foot wingspan reduce turbulence to very tiny eddies. As it turns out, this reduced turbulence is exactly what we desire for our high speed aircraft. Therefore, the same technique has now been incorporated into later versions of airplane wing designs. But are we to regard the structure along the bateleur's wings as intended to function that way, or do we say it is the result of an accident?
At this point, one can choose to believe that it is the product of "natural selection." But that is not an explanation; it is only a label. For the sake of discussion, even if natural selection were true, the question we would then need to ask is, who or what is the origin of this miraculous catchall named "natural selection" that transforms confusion into design? Why should dead cosmic dust create living organisms with wonder-working machinery that self-assembles molecules into miraculous biological systems exhibiting technology that dwarfs human ingenuity?
Or consider a shark, when it bites the sand to catch a flounder. Hidden below the surface, the flounder is motionless. How does the shark know the flounder is there? The answer is neither sound nor vibration nor odor. Instead, the shark possesses a fantastically sophisticated three-dimensional electric field detector that senses the muscle and body potentials of the flounder. The high sensitivity of this system can be compared to our knowing
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the precise whereabouts of a single flashlight battery located about two thousand miles away (fifty nanovolts per cm).8
Or consider the black warbler. Here is a bird that weighs about one-third of an ounce; it loads up on fat half again its weight, and takes off from northeast Canada to fly past Bermuda and on toward the African coast. From there it flies to South America, reaching the Venezuelan coast after four days and five nights of nonstop flying at a fuel economy of over seven hundred thousand miles per gallon.9 We might ask, "If natural selection produced so wondrous a flying machine, why did it deny this little bird oil for its feathers?" Since it flies over oceans, one might think that nature would have provided oil for its feathers so that it could have "pit stops" along the way. As it is, its flight must be essentially nonstop.
One reason that natural selection is an empty phrase is that we can create any story to defend it. For example, we can explain the absence of oil in the black warbler's feathers by saying that it's nature's way of keeping the bird out of the ocean, and therefore from drowning. Conversely, if it turned out that its feathers did have oil, we could argue that the oil is there to keep the black warbler from sinking, since it flies over water. The point is that one can always create a story to explain something after the fact. Given any fact, the human mind can conjure up any number of reasons to explain that fact.
Biological miracles are everywhere, but natural selection provides no sober insight into their origin. Rather, it is an ill-defined concept of "fitness" that decades of research have failed to operationalize.10 Natural selection no more explains living systems than does natural affection explain the people who express it. Stories are fabricated after the fact, and its failure as a research tool stems from the recent discovery that it has no explanatory power.11 These points are more fully discussed in a later chapter.
Nature's miracles are found not only among the fish that swim and the birds that fly, but also among the creatures that crawl. The bombardier beetle (Brachinus), for instance, is a bizarre insect with a defense system that's a cross between a gas bomb and an automatic rifle.12 Externally, the beetle has two rear nozzles that can be rotated like a bomber's gun turret. Internally, it has two chambers, each with chemicals that are harmless when kept apart (24 percent hydrogen peroxide and 10 percent hydroquinone). But when an enemy approaches, the chemicals are internally mixed into an explosive gas, which the beetle pumps out its rear nozzles at temperatures above 200 degrees Fahrenheit. And it is able to perform this feat up to twenty times a day!
Or, consider the porpoise. Special fat cells resembling machine oil (isovaleric acid) are distributed throughout its forehead (melon) to form a very complex three-dimensional acoustic lens.13 High-frequency sound waves generated at the base of its blowhole are focused by this lens into a very narrow beam, which is then reflected back to the porpoise, thereby allowing it to navigate
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through the water at high speed. Some evidence suggests that this lens also functions as a "stun gun" by channeling large bursts of sound energy into the water to immobilize prey, which the porpoise then rapidly overtakes.14 The reason that a porpoise can swim so fast (over forty miles per hour) is because spongy material within its loose, finely-laced, layered skin rhythmically vibrates with movements that virtually match laminar flow, and that reduce its drag by 90 percent. We don't use the idea in our submarines because, as a practical matter, we can't reproduce the material.
The Cosmic Dust Religion
But how can the random interaction of nonliving matter produce structures so sophisticated that our most advanced technology seems pale by comparison? How did such magic originate? Even if we say that it ultimately traces to the physical properties of subnuclear particles, we are then led to ask, "How did they arise?"15 Why, for example, does an electron have exactly the electrical charge and mass that it does?16 Why is it that light travels at precisely the speed it does?17 And who or what dialed the value of the gravitational "constant"?18
Some suppose that these things are the result of natural processes, but there is not one shred of factual evidence to support such a belief.19 As a matter of fact, the physical universe in which these processes express themselves is itself the result of mysterious origin. The belief that this origin is "natural" is an act of faith because the word natural only has meaning in terms of the existing world — not in terms of the ill-defined realm that preceded it. Yet, if a Supreme Intelligence is behind it, are we able to accept that? If God actually designed and created our world, could we ever believe it? Or is our nature disposed to invalidate anything produced by an Agent outside our control?
Is the Best Explanation Intelligence?
The "machines" that I chose to discuss were the snake eagle, shark, black warbler, bombardier beetle, and porpoise. But these biological wonders are just the tip of the iceberg. There are approximately 11 million species of life on earth, and each one is a living miracle. They are the result of mind-boggling organizational intricacies at the molecular level that leave us in awe. The thirty-sixth edition of Gray's Anatomy contains 1,578 pages, each with a superficial description of a subsystem of the human body. I defy any honest, rational person to open that book to the first example, examine it, say it happened by chance — then turn and examine the next page, say it happened by chance, and so on. See how far you get! The point is that these organic structures present us with a degree of complexity we cannot explain mechanistically.
The most heroic attempts to explain life by many brilliant minds are akin to "explaining" that a car moves because it has four wheels. To a child this is
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an explanation because it describes the extent to which he can see. Likewise, the biological hypotheses we create make sense to us because they align with the shallow depth to which we see. But a superficial understanding of even the simplest structures unveils stupendous levels of microscopic cooperation among physical interactions found throughout the universe. These interactions depend upon myriad unseen locations, motions, and subatomic parameters so precise that our attempts at explaining life resemble a blindfolded monkey throwing darts at the moon. This is not to say that we shouldn't try to explain things, but to plead for sobriety when claiming that accidents create machines.
Everything we know tells us that machines are structures intelligence designs, and that accidents destroy. Therefore, accidents do not design machines. Intellect does. And the myriad of biological wonders that sprinkle our world testify to the design ingenuity of a Supreme Intellect. This is the simplest explanation — yet the one that is most rejected. The English scholar William of Occam formulated a principle known in science as Occam's Razor. Succinctly put, the principle states that the simplest theory that fits the facts corresponds most closely to reality. In our case, the simplest theory is that Intelligence rather than accidents designed the living structures that populate planet earth.
Chapter Six || Table of Contents
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2. de Duve C. A Guided Tour of the Living Cell (1984) Scientific American Library (I.8:132).
3. Layzer D. Constructing the Universe (1984) Scientific American Library (7:244).
4. Greenleaf S. Testimony of the Evangelists — Examined by the Rules of Evidence Administered in Courts of Justice (1965) Baker Book H. (Reprint of 1847 ed.).
5. Schneider S. & Londer R. The Coevolution of Climate & Life (1984) Sierra Club Books.
6. Shannon C. & Weaver W. The Mathematical Theory of Communication (1949) Illinois Univ. (Urbana).
7. Whitfield P. ed. Illustrated Animal Encyclopedia (1984) Macmillan :220.
8. Kalmijn A. Science (1982) 218:916 Nov 26.
9. Kreithen M. Colloquium On Animal Navigation (1984) DSRC (Princeton) Jan 31.
10. Macbeth M. Darwin Retried: An Appeal to Reason (1971) Boston.
11. Brady R. Biol. Jour. Linn. Soc. (1982) 17(1):79
12. Schildknecht H. Angewandte Chemie (1961) (Germany) Jan 7.
13. Malins D. & Varanusi U. N.Ocea.Atm.Adm.NWAlaFsh.Cnt Res. Prom (1983) Spon: Seat.Univ. & Off.Nav.Res.
14. Norris K. & Mohl B. American Naturalist (1983) 122:85.
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16. Belinfante F. Am. Jour. Phys. (1978) 46:329
17. Cohen R. et al. The Fundamental Constants of Physics (1957) Interscience (5:105).
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19. Wheeler J. Quantum Theory and Measurement (1983) Wheeler J. & Zurek W. ed. (I:182).
