Note:
My view of the "science" used by Creationists is 100% negative.
I am completely hostile to that view of the world and regard it
as half-baked at best and utterly dishonest at its core.
 
Billy R
 
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from the site:
Religion &  Politics
 
 
The Sources of Creationism’s Disjointed Science
By _Elizabeth Yale_ (http://religionandpolitics.org/author/elizabeth_yale/) 
 | October 8, 2014
 
 
Once upon a time, in the West, sacred history, human history, and natural  
history were one. The Hebrew Bible, refracted through the prism of the 
Christian  New Testament, told a story in which time, nature and humanity came 
into being  together. From that beginning, history, with its low spots (Eve, 
the serpent,  the apple) and its high marks (the birth, death, and 
resurrection of Jesus  Christ) was the unfolding of God’s plan for the 
redemption of a 
fallen humanity.  For Christians, time had a plot, and its beginning and 
end were both part of  written history: even as its bright unfolding was 
traced in the opening chapters  of the Book of Genesis, its ending in 
cataclysm, 
judgment, and eternal life was  laid out in the Book of Revelation.  
Humans were there from day six of creation, made by God in his image. Both  
free will and the moral and ethical understandings that allowed us to live 
in  community with each other were grounded in divine creation: they were 
gifts of  God. Nature was understood to be fitted to human use and to operate 
on something  of a human scale. As this story was told in medieval Europe 
(roughly, the  centuries between the fall of Rome and Columbus’s voyage to the 
lands that  became the Americas) the earth was nested at the heart of the 
cosmos. Ringed  around it were the moon, the planets, the sun, and the stars, 
all encompassed by  the heaven where God reigned in majesty. We looked up 
from the center not at  infinite space but at a mansion made of nested 
spheres spinning in perfect  harmony. 
Once upon a time, indeed. Though very few would argue any more that the 
earth  is at the center of the cosmos, many find the notion that humanity is as 
old (or  as young) as the earth to be a true, and immensely satisfying, 
story. According  to the _latest Gallup poll_ 
(http://www.gallup.com/poll/170822/believe-creationist-view-human-origins.aspx) 
 on this question, some 42 
percent of  Americans—a number that has hardly budged in over 30 years of 
surveys—claim to  believe in young-earth Creationism. Drawing on the work of 
Biblical  chronologists active in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, 
young-earth  Creationists date the origins of the cosmos to roughly 6,000 years 
ago.  Organizations like Answers in Genesis, whose director Ken Ham recently 
_debated_ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6kgvhG3AkI)  Bill Nye on the 
scientific merits of young earth  creationism, defend it ardently. 
Assenting to this vision of history requires a series of strategic denials. 
 First and foremost for Ham and his organization is the denial that 
science, and  scientists, can say anything at all about history. “Historical 
science
” cannot  be proved: no matter what geologists, biologists, and 
paleontologists might  infer about the past by applying their knowledge of 
natural 
processes to the  present conditions of the rocks, living organisms, and 
fossils, they were not  physically present to witness the events their sciences 
explain. History is a  thing written in a sacred book. 
Yet Ham is not eager to deny science altogether: rather, he attempts to  
discredit “historical science” while preserving “observational science.”  
Observational science is responsible for the technological innovations that  
smooth modern life, a point Ham illustrated in his debate with Nye with a  
Powerpoint slide of an iPhone. Yet in attacking “historical science,” Ham 
(and  Answers in Genesis more broadly) creatively appropriate scientific 
language and  scientific methods. In doing so, they pay a backhand compliment 
to 
scientific  modes of apprehending reality, suggesting that for all it appears 
to be under  threat in this postmodern world, scientific ways of knowing 
the world remain our  primary means of securing publicly shared knowledge. 
Perhaps surprisingly to those of us weaned on the “two cultures” divide  
between the humanities and the sciences, many of the sciences—especially 
those  that tend to invalidate literal readings of the book of Genesis—are  
fundamentally historical in nature. They read “the book of nature” in ways that 
 are analogous to the ways in which historians read written documents and  
archaeologists ancient artifacts. If the earth is an archive, fossils, and 
even  living species, with their information-rich genomes, are documents. 
It was in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries—at least two hundred 
years  before Charles Darwin and his intervention into our understanding of the 
 development of human life—that science first began to be historical. At 
that  time, natural philosophers seriously began wondering what fossils were. 
Marine  fossils posed a particular problem. Robert Plot, an English natural 
historian  and museum curator, and others argued that they were naturally 
produced in  rocks, “jokes of nature,” in which the rock mimicked organic 
forms. Others, the  mechanical philosopher Robert Hooke among them, began to 
suspect that they were  the remains of living animals. But, if they had once 
been living animals, how  could it be that fossils of sea-dwellers were now 
found on dry plains and the  tops of mountains? The naturalist John Woodward, 
reasoning from the shared  understanding that natural, human, and sacred 
history were one, produced a  sweeping theory that fit fossils into the 
unified, biblical history that he and  his colleagues knew so well. Marine 
fossils 
in unusual places were natural  evidence that confirmed the biblical story 
of the flood, which had swept across  the earth, lifting ocean dwellers up 
to the highest heights and destroying  everything and everyone except for 
Noah, his family, and the animals he packed  on to the ark. 
This debate was perhaps the closest thing the seventeenth century had to  
2014’s “Ham on Nye”—with one exception. God was on both sides. Robert Plot  
promoted the “jokes of nature,” theory because he could not conceive of a  
mechanism that would move ocean animals to the tops of mountains and also 
accord  with biblical history. Those on the other side, including Robert 
Hooke and  Woodward, could not accept that God would create something so 
apparently  purposeless as a rock that mimicked the form of a shell yet had 
never 
sheltered  a soft bodied sea dweller. God was a being of loving and rational 
purpose; he  did not play jokes on his human children. 
Though both camps were trying to reconcile the evidence of nature to the  
biblical record, they each slung accusations of atheism at the other. 
Proponents  of the “jokes of nature” theory were atheists because they seemed 
to 
deny that  God operated in rational, purposeful ways that could be understood 
by human  observers. Eyebrows were raised at Woodward, as well: in his 
theory, the flood  was a product of natural laws. These natural laws were 
ordained by God. But  still, Woodward’s flood was not a miracle—it did not 
involve God breaking into  the world in violation of the laws of nature—and it 
just happened to coincide  with a period of extraordinary human sinfulness, as 
required by the Genesis  narrative. 
In the short term, the diluvians won the day—most naturalists were 
persuaded  that the spread of marine fossils was due to the biblical flood. The 
unified  timeline of human, sacred, and natural history was preserved, as was 
the notion  that nature was authored by a loving, rational God. Yet over the 
course of the  eighteenth century, as fossil evidence became more fully 
integrated into a  developing knowledge of geology, this explanation came to 
seem 
less and less  satisfactory. The earth’s terrain, and the spread of the 
fossils in the layers  of rock that cloaked the earth, were too varied to be 
explained by a single  global flood. Geologists began to argue that there were 
no miraculous, global  cataclysms. Rather, one could argue backward to the 
past from forces visible in  the present—volcanoes erupted, spreading magma 
that hardened into rock, which  wind and rain eroded, grinding it into soil. 
Rivers carved canyons and deposited  silts. Glaciers gradually pushed great 
boulders immense distances. 
But these processes were slow, so slow, that, to produce the earth as it 
now  existed, they had to operate across many more centuries than the time 
scale  allowed by the biblical story. Eighteenth century geologists largely 
refused to  specify precisely how old the earth was, believing they had 
insufficient  evidence to make such judgments, but they generally agreed that 
it 
was much  older than the human race, possibly by as much as a million years 
(to a people  that had previously agreed the world was about 6,000 years old, 
an almost  unimaginable span of time). Yet, though they dramatically 
expanded natural  history, setting human history adrift in a sea of time, many 
natural  philosophers continued to believe that nature’s past was legible 
because the  natural order was underwritten by God. 
For Ken Ham, as for many young-earth creationists, the history of science  
stopped in 1700: Ham’s theory is essentially Woodward’s. Ham’s distinction  
between historical and observational science is not merely a curiosity: 
real  harm is possible, for example, in that Answers in Genesis uses it to 
_discredit_ 
(https://answersingenesis.org/environmental-science/climate-change/should-we-be-concerned-about-climate-change/)
  the science behind global 
warming, which relies on  reconstructing many millennia of climate history. 
Yet, 
living in the  twenty-first century, Ken Ham is also forced to defend his 
distinction between  historical and observational science in modern 
scientific terms. Answers in  Genesis provides essay after essay dissecting the 
latest fossil finds, and  explaining how geological evidence can be read in 
terms 
of a catastrophic flood.  In order to do so, they delve deeply into the 
sciences of radiometric dating,  fluid dynamics, stratigraphy, and even quantum 
mechanics. The question of  whether Christians should _“believe in ‘weird’ 
physics”_ 
(https://answersingenesis.org/physics/do-creationists-believe-in-weird-physics/)
  (a category which, in the Answers  in Genesis view, 
includes relativity, quantum mechanics, and string theory)  animates a long, 
detailed essay on the history of physics. (Short answer:  yes.) 
Although a scientist might read Answers in Genesis’s engagement with  
scientific knowledge as disingenuous, it can have unpredictable effects—a  
curious reader might well find the detailed scientific explanations of  
geological 
phenomena more convincing than their rebuttal. Or, she might ask: if  I’m 
allowed to accept quantum mechanics, why not radiometric dating, which  
relies on quantum mechanical understandings of the atom to establish the ages 
of  
human and fossil remains? Answers in Genesis also seeks to preserve the 
products  of scientific and technical research that are integrated into our 
lives—in  addition to that iPhone, the slides that Ken Ham threw up during the 
debate with  Bill Nye included an image of Craig Venter, the lead scientist 
on the Human  Genome Project. Venter may be an atheist, Ham admits, but he 
does good  “observational science”—the kind that produces new medical 
breakthroughs that  many rely upon. Yet analysis of the genome leads to 
enriched 
understandings of  human evolutionary history, as well as new cancer 
treatments. Ham’s distinction  between historical and observational science is 
incoherent, as Nye pointed out  in their debate. 
Yet it is also true that we owe the notion that fossils, rocks, and genomes 
 are documents from which we can read nature’s history to a theological  
conception of nature. Seventeenth-century natural philosophers turned against  
the “jokes of nature” theory of fossils because they refused to believe 
that  Nature’s God played tricks on humans. Their God was an author, one who 
wrote a  Book of Nature that humans were meant to be able to read. Modern 
science (as a  matter of general methodological principle—this is to say 
nothing of the beliefs  of individual scientists) may have declared the divine 
author dead, yet a way of  divinely-inspired reading continues on in the belief 
that nature operates  according to rational laws that humans can decipher. 
That assumption is so  fundamental that, for scientists, it is an article of 
faith. 
-------------------------------------------------------- 
Elizabeth Yale is an historian of science and adjunct assistant professor  
at The University of Iowa Center for the Book. 

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