Tag Archives: PZ Myers

Interview: The developers of CellCraft

Last month, I noticed that PZ Myers had written a Pharyngula post about a videogame called CellCraft. I didn’t bother reading it, though, since I prefer it when he’s writing about topics he both likes and knows a lot about, such as biology and religion. Games are not usually one of those topics.

Then I got a private message from a friend who knows I’m a gamer, and who expressed his opinion that PZ was “way off the mark.” Intrigued, I stopped reading immediately to go play, so I could form my own opinions. I found a cute little educational game about cell biology that had some good jokes and an earnest enthusiasm to connect with the player. And then I read the Pharyngula post about it, as well as the comments.

The controversy was interesting to me, because it ranged from very legitimate concerns to issues of game design. But I found PZ’s condemnation of CellCraft as “a creationist game” to be over the top, and the subsequent dismantling of one of the game’s developers in the comments to be unfair. I might have moved on, but this sentence from that developer just stayed with me:

“We knew that we didn’t all agree about evolution, creation, etc., but it didn’t matter — we wanted to teach about the science.”

Being what the hardliners would consider an accommodationist, I thought this notion of “bipartisanship” in science education through games was fascinating, and I wanted to know more. So I present my interview with Anthony Pecorella, who is quoted above, and Lars Doucet, the developers of CellCraft. It’s long, but I hope you will stick with us as we talk about the creation and evolution of the game, its mistakes and misconceptions, issues of science game design and whether people of faith can be scientists. I believe that while there are undeniable red flags concerning the game, they are in the end red herrings, and if you read this interview and remain convinced that CellCraft was designed to teach creationism, I also believe you should apply your own skepticism to that conviction.

Continue on to the interview

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Atheist symbols, part one

When I finally realized I was an atheist, it was a relief. For years I had tried to figure out what my position was on God, in which I assumed I believed but could never quite accept how or why. As I began reading more about skepticism, the overlap with atheism started me considering whether in fact I simply didn’t believe in a god at all, and the more I thought about it, the more right it felt. Instead of finding a way to make my belief feel natural, I found it more natural to admit to myself that I didn’t believe at all.

I wanted to begin this blog with a certain expression of who I am, especially on subjects I planned to talk about a lot. So when I learned about The Out Campaign, I thought it was an interesting and useful way to shorthand that aspect that informs my worldview and this blog. At the time I didn’t know anything about “the new atheists” or any controversies involving Richard Dawkins; I placed the A on the blog for about the same reason that there’s cats playing videogames on the banner.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’d be considered an accommodationist by many who identify as atheist. There are situations where I don’t have a problem with the existence of religion. A lot of this has to do with my hesitancy to judge religious people who use their faith as a lifeline. For example, many chronically ill people who have nothing else in their lives hang on to their belief in Jesus as a way to cope. Some atheists would want those people to let go of that delusion and live only in reality. But unless they’re undergoing religious treatments for a real illness, or something like that, I’m apt to be happy that they have something to keep them going. Similarly, many people complained when priests were sent to Haiti after the devastating earthquake. As long as those priests came along with food, medical supplies and doctors, I didn’t have an argument with it. The people of Haiti are very religious; who am I to sit back all comfy in my first-world house and declare that their spiritual needs are irrelevant?

Some atheists are defensive because of prejudice against us. Maybe it’s 36 years of being a Jew, but I can’t manage to get overly worked up over any but the most galling instances of that. For example, when atheism keeps people from being able to be Boy Scouts, I lose all interest in that organization until they change that shit. But I do that with groups that don’t allow LGBTQ members either (again, hello, Boy Scouts!); it’s a protest against exclusion, even if I don’t happen to belong to the group being excluded. So some closed-minded believers think atheism and secularism are going to ruin this great nation of ours. Have you heard what a lot of those same people say about the Jews? Understand I’m not saying this isn’t a legitimate cause for outrage. By all means it is, when religious lunacy invades our school boards and our laws. Just for myself, I’ve been leery of organized religion for as long as I can remember, as well as learning about and watching Jewish people face homicidal bigotry; becoming an atheist simply didn’t spark any new impetus.

The Surly A, by Amy Davis Roth

I’d like to explore what it means to live my life without religion and without belief in a higher power. Am I a secular Jew? A humanist? Something else? But in the end, I’m much more fascinated by the realm of skepticism, and if I’m going to be an activist about anything, it’ll be about that. Skepticism opens debates that I find interesting, whereas I don’t really find the question of whether there’s a God to be interesting. To me, there isn’t one, so I’d rather move on to what’s happening in pseudoscience.

Richard Dawkins and/or his followers (it seems to depend entirely on your point of view) have become well known for a style of atheism some people ridiculously call “fundamentalist,” but what is simply, unapologetically, rational. It’s the in-your-face part that grates on some, and again, it’s the part that I’m less interested in pursuing, personally. (And of course to many people, something as innocuous as a “Don’t believe in God? You’re not alone” bus sign is offensive to the point of apoplexy, so “in-your-face” is highly subjective.) For a while I debated whether to keep the scarlet A, a symbol of activism that I don’t identify with, on this blog. I really questioned it when I was reading comments about the brief religious statement in Daniel Loxton’s Evolution. There was so much animosity towards that mild passage that I felt really alienated from my fellow atheists.

But the truth is, I’m thankful that there are atheist activists who are making religious people uncomfortable. I’m glad that Greta Christina, PZ Myers, and other people are waging unrelenting war on the anti-secularists and the religious lunatics. My style may never be theirs, but they and people like them will hopefully be the ones effecting change for the better. So in the end, I went back to my original reason for keeping the A, plus a little more: my respect for Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens and every single atheist tweeter and blogger who is doing the work for a cause I believe in.

There is an atheist symbol that I’ve come to identify with, which I will talk about next time in part two.

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Weekend sendoff: Lessons for a skeptic

straitOne thing I love about the skeptic community is that there is no end of things to learn from it. In one sense, I mean that there are so many different things to focus on, from medical pseudoscience to cryptozoology to Holocaust denial, and so much learning material about them — podcasts, blogs, books, lectures on YouTube, etc. (As someone who mostly works from bed, I am really thankful for how much of this is readily available on the Internet.) In another sense, and especially for someone who has only just started writing about her skepticism, there is always something new to learn about critical thinking, and how to improve it. It seems to me that criticism of one another can be just as useful as criticism of those we consider “the enemy,” at least as far as encouraging the community to improve its own practices.

I should properly cite and link some of what follows, but it was Paul’s birthday yesterday and I chose to celebrate with him instead of writing a really cogent post. The nutshell for those who haven’t been keeping up, and who will hopefully not mind Googling if they want to read for themselves: James Randi, a beloved and esteemed skeptical leader, wrote a post in which he expressed doubt about the existence of anthropogenic (human-caused) global warming (AGW). There was a firestorm of reaction to both this and his follow-up post, in which other skeptical leaders expressed disappointment, betrayal, and even anger. Some of this reaction had to do with the logical fallacies and apparent lack of critical study on the matter; some with the notion that the AGW “denialists” — an epithet hurled by many commenters at Randi — have had their position bolstered by one of the true icons of the skeptical movement.

There has been much opining, and I don’t need to add my voice to the chorus. The reason I mention it is because I’ve found it all to be extremely educational. I’ve learned a lot from those who have picked apart Randi’s post to demonstrate its fallacies. In a different way, I’ve learned a lot from the different personal views espoused by commenters such as PZ Myers, Phil Plait, Orac, and Massimo Pigliucci. It seems to me, and I mean this without judgment on anyone’s reaction, that skeptical leaders have a lot to teach their students when a challenge in the community arises like this. What is the purview of skepticism, and what isn’t? Should notable skeptics be restricted only to their area of expertise, or are they just as entitled as anyone else to air their opinion, controversial as it may be? When the community is forced to debunk one of its own leaders, certainly students like me should work even harder, learn even more, to guard against the kind of thinking that we like to think we are immune from. Because this week it really hit home that none of us is. And this is also how we form our opinions about how skeptics do and should respond in these situations.

Along those lines, I’ll have my belated post about alternative medicine for CFS and similar illnesses on Monday. Or more accurately, alternatives to some of the best known, but least useful, “alternative” treatments. For now, as a total non-sequitur, I send you off with the birthday boy and the incomparable Zen.

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