
I petition the Ontario Legislature to adopt legislation to establish a single, non-sectarian, publicly funded school system made up of English and French language school boards.Sign the Petition.
I petition the Ontario Legislature to adopt legislation to establish a single, non-sectarian, publicly funded school system made up of English and French language school boards.Sign the Petition.
One particularly interesting technological development was that there were two screens at the front of the room: one big one for the presenter to use, and a smaller one on which a twitter wall was displayed — all the silent conversations using the “#skeptech” hashtag were continuously displayed, which meant there was a constant flow of commentary from the audience sharing the stage with the speaker. It was rather cool — I’d like to see more of it at more conferences. It certainly made that hashtag explode with content.I think that's a very, very, bad idea. I'm not sure that I would agree to be a speaker if I knew that the audience was going to pay more attention to their own tweets than to anything I was saying.
We've been keeping something from you, dear readers, but now it can be told. The evolution debate is about to undergo a paradigm shift....It would not be fair to criticize Meyer's book before we get a chance to read it. It will be fun to see how the science compares with that in the book by Erwin and Valentine. I'm really looking forward to reading about the Intelligent Design Theory that explains all of the scientific data. I'm especially curious about why the designer did the deed 530 million years ago and why everything since then looks so much like evolution. I'm sure that's going to be covered. We can be practically certain that a paradigm-shifting book like this isn't just going to be several hundred pages of evolution bashing.
Here is a sweeping account, stunningly illustrated with gorgeous color photos, of the frontiers of the scientific critique of Darwinism and the case for ID. Exacting and thorough, yet remarkably accessible to the thoughtful lay reader, Darwin's Doubt introduces us to the challenges to Darwinism based on the study of combinatorial inflation, protein science, population genetics, developmental biology, epigenetic information, and more.
Meyer explains how post-Darwinian alternatives and adaptions of Darwin's theory -- including self-organizational models, evo-devo, neutral or nonadaptive evolution, natural genetic engineering, and others -- fall short as well. He demonstrates that the weaknesses of orthodox evolutionary theory, when flipped over head-to-foot, are precisely the positive indications that point most persuasively to intelligent design.
Evolutionary biologists studying gene regulatory networks and fossil discontinuity, among other fields, have come tantalizingly close to reaching this conclusion themselves.
The Cambrian event, fundamentally, represents an information explosion, the first but not the last in the history of life. As no book has done before, Darwin's Doubt spells out the implications of this fact. Dr. Meyer stands on the verge of turning the evolution debate in an entirely new direction, compelling critics of the theory of intelligent design, at last, to respond substantively and in detail. The book will be a game-changer, for science and culture alike.
Erwin, D.H., Laflamme, M., Tweedt, S.M., Sperling, E.A., Pisani, D., and Peterson, K.J. (2011) The Cambrian conundrum: early divergence and later ecological success in the early history of animals. Science 334:1091-1097. [PubMed] [doi: 10.1126/science.1206375]
The recent court ruling in the United States against the teaching of ‘Intelligent Design’ (ID) as an alternative to evolution in biology classes (Kitzmiller v. Dover Area School District; Jones 2005) has sparked public interest and has been hailed as a victory by the scientific community. One of the reasons given for the verdict is the notion that science is limited strictly to the study of natural phenomena and therefore that ID and other claims involving supernatural phenomena are outside the proper domain of scientific investigation.
While the verdict is widely viewed as correct for other reasons cited in the court’s opinion, that particular rationale upon which it is based is questionable. Indeed, is science limited to the study of ‘natural’ phenomena? Does science presuppose Naturalism and thereby exclude supernatural explanations by definition? Are claims involving ‘supernatural’ phenomena inherently untestable and therefore outside the province of science? The present article argues that this is not the case. Science does not presuppose Naturalism and supernatural claims are amenable in principle to scientific evaluation [see Monton (2006) and Stenger (2006a) for a similar critique of Judge Jones’ verdict]. Indeed, science does have implications for the probable truth of supernatural worldviews (Gauch 2006, defends a similar thesis).
To exclude, a priori, the supernatural would validate the complaint voiced by some ID adherents and other creationists that science is dogmatically committed to Naturalism and thus opposed in principle to considering supernatural explanations (Johnson 1999; see Stenger 2006a). On the other hand, if there is no fundamental barrier preventing science from evaluating supernatural claims, then to declare the study of supernatural phenomena out of bounds to scientific investigation imposes artificial constraints on scientific inquiry, which potentially would deny science the noble task of purging false beliefs from the public sphere or the opportunity to discover aspects of reality that may have significant worldview implications.
Fishman, Y.I. (2009) Can science test supernatural worldviews? Science and Education 18:165-189. [doi: 10.1007/s11191-007-9108-4
Fishman, Y.I. and Boudry, M. (2013) Does Science Presuppose Naturalism (or Anything at All)? Science & Education (published online January 7, 2013) [doi: 10.1007/s11191-012-9574-1]
The term “naturalism”, however, is ambiguous. On the one hand it can mean giving a natural explanation through the use of scientific methods such as the use of human reasoning and observation. Or, it can mean the claim that only “natural” things exist. The first is sometimes called “methodological naturalism”, and it is the underpinning of all science, and indeed all learning about the world. The second is sometimes called “metaphysical naturalism”, although I think it is instead a claim about what exists (which is called “ontology” amongst the philosophical community). God might be natural in that sense. There is no real sharp dividing line between the natural and the supernatural that would satisfy most believers. For example, human nature for some is held to include a soul, which is divine. So let us call the second kind ontological naturalism.Obviously I don't think that methodological naturalism is the "underpinning of all science." I think science is free to investigate claims of the paranormal (i.e. not naturalism) and can, in principle, discover things that don't meet the definition of naturalism.
GEN brings you the best, most informative and/or entertaining biotech-related videos on the web!Watch the video and tell me what you think.
In this video, Hank—who has brought you updates on the Human Genome Project, chimeras, and epigenetics—explains why your junk DNA may actually be quite valuable. Through the ENCODE project, scientists have recently revealed that junk DNA is in fact useful in ways we hadn't understood. Though there's still a lot to learn, Hank explains why it's an exciting time to be studying genes.
Education works in much the same way: it is a process, one in which the student plays a necessary part, and an experience, in which the student plays a major role in the “outcome”. In fact every student actually receives a different “education”, with different outcomes, even if they’re all paying the same amount. What you pay for with tuition money is not “education”, but access to resources–libraries, expert staff, teaching and mentorship, even social contact–and access to a formal credential. Even the credential isn’t guaranteed, since students must complete academic requirements in addition to paying tuition and fees.
The assumption that education itself can be sold seems in part like a conflation of “education” and “credential”, and also an assumption that education never required anything from the student in order to be education. The idea that in the past students were not “engaged” with material is closely related to this. Of course students in the past were engaged to learn–they had to be. Otherwise they couldn’t have learned anything, because that’s how learning works. This is why “education” cannot be “delivered” like the daily paper.
The concept of education as an object is also present in debates about online learning, particularly in the recent massively hyped corporate and Ivy League versions of MOOCs. Driven as they are by the non-pedagogical need to find economies of scale, these projects envision students quantitatively, from the calculation of enrollment to the use of “learning analytics” to track behaviour (and the monetization of data). This fragmentation turns education into a series of discrete services, interactions, and measured outcomes.
Such a view of education–as something that can be delivered, sold, packaged–is part of a schema that includes the overly-simplistic “sender-receiver” model of communication, and the objectification of knowledge. These ideas are present in much of the criticism of, and commentary about, higher education; and they are pervasive in the rhetoric of education marketing and policy. The marketization of education, its presentation as simultaneously a product and a service, its increasing necessity in a difficult economy, and the financial burden placed on students through increasing tuition and fees, have all contributed to our understanding of what education is. Objectification and commodification go hand in hand; treating students as consumers means encouraging them to see education as something to be consumed–not created. Of course this is much easier than saying, “you’ve paid $6,000–now you have to do the work”, because that arrangement simply doesn’t fit with consumerist logic.
A central part of my research project is the way organizations communicate, and the organizations I focus on are universities. So when it comes to undergraduate education and university experience, an important question I think we need to ask is this: what’s the message that students receive from universities? I’ve been thinking about this lately, and was discussing it again last week with students in one of my tutorials. Here are a few of the thoughts that came out of that discussion.You should read her entire post but here's the bottom line ...
So what’s the message that students receive from universities? From asking undergraduates, it sounds like oftentimes it’s an incoherent, authoritative, and monologic one. This tone and delivery in and of itself can be off-putting enough that students might feel uncomfortable seeking help. For example, being told “that information was/is available to you” (i.e., “you should have known better”) is not a helpful approach when students may be confused and in the middle of a crisis, seeking support. One thing that’s missing is the understanding that rather than just providing students with lists of available services, we need to de-mystify the university itself; instead of trying to create the perfect bureaucratic system (which is impossible in any case), we could show students how systems work. This is also part of the “tacit” knowledge that students gain from being in university; to help students understand the institution, we need to make that knowledge explicit–to communicate it.I've often thought that we must not be doing a good job of education if we are graduating students with a bachelor's degree who don't understand the basics of how a university works. These are the students who will go on to decide the future of universities even if it's only because they vote. How do we "de-mystify" the university?
University professors have a lot less stress than most of us. Unless they teach summer school, they are off between May and September and they enjoy long breaks during the school year, including a month over Christmas and New Year’s and another chunk of time in the spring. Even when school is in session they don’t spend too many hours in the classroom. For tenure-track professors, there is some pressure to publish books and articles, but deadlines are few. Working conditions tend to be cozy and civilized and there are minimal travel demands, except perhaps a non-mandatory conference or two. As for compensation, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the median salary for professors is $62,000, not a huge amount of money but enough to live on, especially in a university town.In an ideal world, every single university graduate should know that this is ridiculous. They should know what professors really do because they have spent four years at university and they learned how the system works. How is it possible that we are graduating students who would believe something like this?