Back to the Miocene

It’s getting harder and harder to find something optimistic about. Seeing science knee-capped and obnoxious snots under Musk’s employ rifling through the IRS files and plotting to destroy Social Security (Hey! That’s my money! It’s not for billionaires to steal) is incredibly discouraging. I found something that looks on the bright side of climate change, though. The Miocene might be a good model for our future.

The Miocene, roughly 5-20 million years ago, had CO2 levels similar to where we’re going as we blast past recommended limit. It was generally warmer and wetter! That has some appeal as I sit here in a region at -30°C. It wasn’t a terrible world at all — primates were diverse and thriving, we had all these interesting mammals, “From Dryopithecus, a lineage of extinct primates that included forerunners of humans, to the toxodonts, large-hoofed mammals with long, curved incisors, to mammals similar to sloths, armadillos and anteaters, to marsupial carnivores”…it was great!

Significantly, the Miocene was a nearly 18 million year epoch full of change, albeit far slower change than ours. It started with a period of glaciation that must have been a chilly change from the greenhouse-like Oligocene, and ended with a prolonged period of glaciation, too. But through much of the Miocene, it was a warm world compared to today’s, a high CO2 planet that gradually cooled over millions of years until ice sheets developed in the Northern Hemisphere and Antarctica.

Around the middle of the epoch, we reached what is called the Miocene Climate Optimum (MCO), a roughly two million year-long greenhouse period when the world experienced its last period of sustained warmth, and the CO2 level was at least 500 ppm. This is the period we’re talking about, most specifically, when we talk about the Miocene as a proxy for our future, although changes throughout the Miocene are relevant: basically, from the middle Miocene Earth went through a process roughly opposite the one we are experiencing (and causing) today.

See? How can you dislike something called a “Climate Optimum”? It looks like paradise! Sign me up — these Minnesota prairies would be so exciting with little horses and hippos and Thylacosmilusand chalicotheres gamboling about in the lush vegetation.

The plants are going to love it.

Carbon dioxide levels affect plants by allowing for greater photosynthesis rates, and by increasing water use efficiency, in that plants can achieve the same amount of photosynthesis with less loss of water through the pores in their leaves, because higher availability of CO2 absorbed through open pores means they can keep them closed more of the time. Thanks to all this, it was also “a globally greener Miocene world,” as Reichgelt and West write in the 2025 paper. Various forms of evidence suggest that the biosphere was more productive during the Miocene compared to now, and that at higher latitudes, this effect was more pronounced.

Except for one major problem: evolution does not run backwards. No chalicotheres await us, especially since we’d be entering a neo-Miocene with a depauperate fauna.

Sadly, the taxodonts will not grace our future world. The long-armed, horsey Chalicotheriidae, reminiscent of Bojack Horseman, won’t be joining us at the bar. Smilodon, the catty predator whose ancestors emerged in the early Miocene, will not smile on us again. Nor the “bizarrely specialized” family of carnivorous marsupials, Malleodectidae, which used their massive ball peen-like third premolars to crush snails. Not the dog bears, Hemicyoninae, who emerged before and lived through the Miocene, nor the bear dogs, Amphicyonidae, which died out by the late Miocene. Evolution doesn’t work like that. Barring the odd de-extinction attempt, what’s lost is gone forever (that includes, thank goodness, the terror birds.)

Expect wild pigs and deer, already doing well, and novel species exploring new environments: I expect the descendants of raccoons and rats to thrive. Humans, not so much. We don’t do so well in the face of widespread environmental disruption, we like nice stable tame-able places where we can rely on crops to come in dependably. We’ll be starting with ecological wreckage and then amplifying the swings of climate and weather, which is a recipe for radical destabilization.

It’s also possible that we’re being seduced by the idea that the Miocene might represent a “happy medium.” As Steinthorsdottir and colleagues write, “More pessimistic scenarios of unmitigated greenhouse gas emissions quickly move us beyond the Pliocene state, pushing Earth’s systems into a potentially vulnerable position where many of its ‘tippable’ subsystems such as glaciers, sea ice, forest biomes, deserts and coral reefs will be permanently destabilized […] an ‘intermediate’ deep-time climate analog, where boundary conditions are close to modern but extreme climate changes occurred, is therefore of great interest.”

As humans we have a notorious tendency to believe that whatever’s in the middle of two given extremes is moderate, cozy, all around OK. (In politics, this results in the Overton Window.) But Miocene-style hydrological or water cycles favor high altitude wind events, like cyclones and hurricanes, that transport heat and moisture evaporating from the tropics to higher latitudes, or California’s intense seasonal rainstorms. The future may be lush, sure, but it’ll also be erratic and dangerous for us. And the “tippable” subsystems Steinthorsdottir mentions may have tipping points that occur well within a Miocene-like context, as scientists have warned.

Whenever a paleoclimatologist tells you a scenario is “of great interest”, it’s time to run.

Sorry. I told you it’s hard to find anything to be optimistic about.

I’m not banal enough to be a NYT columnist

I have no idea what he’s trying to say with this illustration on the column. God has a whip? He’s a bastard to make you behave?

But I could try, if the New York Times would give me a sinecure as their atheist columnist, and if I were willing to discard any self-respect I might have. After all, they do employ the most insipid theist they could find, Ross Douthat. He tried something slightly creative this week, trying to steel-man an atheist argument, badly. He presents his idea of The Best Argument Against Having Faith in God. It’s the problem of evil.

One interesting point about this argument is that while it’s often folded into the briefs for atheism that claim to rely primarily on hard evidence and science, it isn’t properly speaking an argument that some creating power does not exist. Rather it’s an argument about the nature of that power, a claim that the particular kind of God envisioned by many believers and philosophers — all powerful and all good — would not have made the world in which we find ourselves, and therefore that this kind of God does not exist.

That is correct. No one uses the problem of evil to disprove a god, but only the idea of a benevolent god, or more specifically, the perfectly good being most Christians promote. When I see it deployed in an argument, it’s usually to make the narrower point that I don’t believe in your god.

Douthat follows the usual out — refusing to deal with a direct criticism of his version of god to ask, “what about this other god?”, a weaker god than his magical being. And then falls back on general apologetics.

You can’t fully counter the argument from evil with evidence of God’s existence because the argument doesn’t fully try to establish God’s nonexistence. And you can’t fully counter it with an argument for why God might allow suffering — as a necessary corollary of free will, for instance — because the claim isn’t about the existence of suffering but its scale and scope and excess.

What you can offer, instead, is a set of challenges rather than straightforward rebuttals. The first challenge emphasizes the limits of what the argument from evil establishes even if you fully accept it: not that God doesn’t exist, not that the universe lacks a supernatural order, but just that the traditional Christian or classical-theist conception of God’s perfect goodness is somehow erroneous or overdrawn. This still leaves you with the converging lines of evidence for some kind of cosmic order, some kind of crucial human role within that drama. And it still leaves you with various theological alternatives to make sense of that evidence: You could be a pantheist or a polytheist, a gnostic or a dualist, a deist or a process theologian, and more. The argument from evil might be a reason to choose one of those schools over traditional Christianity, without being a good reason to choose atheism.

He really just doesn’t like atheism. Anything else but atheism. He doesn’t bother to say what those the converging lines of evidence for some kind of cosmic order are, though. But OK, sure, the problem of evil says you should be anything but a traditional Christian, I’ll take it.

Douthat is a traditional Catholic.

Does he even read what he writes?

The straw he grasps at is that any good exists, and you can’t explain that, therefore God.

But it makes the problem of good — real good, deep good, the Good, not just fleeting spasms and sensations — at least as notable a difficulty for the believer in a totally indifferent universe as the problem of evil is supposed to be for the religious believer.

Which suggests that even if that evil makes it hard for you to believe in a God of perfect power, you still shouldn’t give up hope that something very good indeed has a role in the order of the world.

Except that we don’t need an all-powerful supernatural being to explain how the world works.

The ball is in your court, New York Times: I’m available. I don’t know if I could write anything as stupid as Douthat’s scribblings, though. If I read enough Douthat will that make me ignorant enough to take his place?

I get email

This email was long and particularly vapid, so I’m not going into detail on it, but I do include the whole damn thing below the fold for your entertainment. To summarize it briefly, my correspondent is a friendly Muslim who wants me to know that he accepts evolution…for other organisms, but not humans. Humans are special. To make his point, he provides Evidence of the Divine.

This evidence consists of long, practically obsessive descriptions of how beautiful Mohammed was. His eyes were large, with deep black irises and bright whites, and his eyelashes were long and how good he smelled, I never smelled ambergris or musk or anything as fragrant as the scent of the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. Also, he knew that horse hooves could strike sparks when galloping over stones, but there are no stones in the desert! How can you not be convinced of the existence of god and the falsity of evolution when you learn this?

He concludes by telling me how persuasive his argument is.

I want to let you know that I’ve shown this to scientists and they were utterly convinced that God didn’t exist and that we evolved from a common ancestor with primates. But after I showed them this proof that the Quran has Divine origins. They started to rethink their whole world view regarding God and atheism.

I include the entirety of his “proof” below, despite the fact that apparently it’s going to convince all of you to leave this site and go running to your nearest mosque. After all, how can you resist when Mohammed bats his lovely eyes at you?

[Read more…]

Libraries rule, Amazon drools

I took a break and visited my local coffee shop for the first time in a few weeks, and I sat down with a cup and thought I’d read for a bit. I had my tablet with me, and I figured I could grab some quick, free reading from Kindle Unlimited, and I slurped in a sci-fi novel. I wasn’t making a big commitment to something complex, just an hour of light reading, and I figured anything would do.

To paraphrase part of the opening scene in this “book,” in which our intrepid hero has crashed on an alien world…

Fortunately, days on this planet were exactly 24 hours, just like Earth days, but unfortunately, hours were 100 minutes long.

Aaiieeee. My brains curdled in my skull. If I had a soul, it would have withered at this taste of Hell. I closed that sucker up and just finished my coffee while glaring at the wall.

This is a problem with Amazon. They have this program to pay “authors” for generating content for Kindle, but there is absolutely no quality control. There are people churning out multiple schlocky novels a week and dumping them on Kindle, creating a swirling cesspool of terrible writing, and the bad content is overwhelming the work of any sincere authors who are trying to get published, somehow. I’m not going to bother with Kindle Unlimited anymore.

I do have a better alternative. In my region, the Viking Library System provides e-book services through an app called Libby, and I can get good books at home or at the coffeeshop. Availability is significantly more limited that what Amazon offers, but I’m learning that drowning in dreck is not better than having to wait for a book I’ll appreciate to become available.

Also, did you know that public libraries positively impact community health and well-being? Take advantage of them before the Republicans close them all.

Fridays are not working for me

At the beginning of the semester, I was pleased to see that I had no classes on Friday, and I looked forward to several months of 3 day weekends.

Hah.

Work expands to fill the time allotted for it. I spent my day a) cleaning up the basement mealworm colony b) cooking, preparing meals to last a few days, c) opening up the fly lab and feeding the residents of the spider lab, d) taking care of probate stuff (I’m still bogged down in legal stuff), e) and then spent all afternoon composing genetics problems. I made the mistake of asking the students what they wanted and they told me they all wanted more practice problems, so now I spend a day each week putting together practice problems, which entails making an answer key with explanations. Oh boy.

This weekend I have to work on a couple of lectures. But I’m also planning to go out with my wife to the movies on Monday. I hope Paddington in Peru is good, because that’s our only choice.

I’m never trusting the promise of a day off ever again.

The Harvest

When I want to hide from the news, I’ve always got bugs to tend. I’ve been neglecting my mealworm colony, so this morning I cleaned it out — it was mostly full of frass, which explains why my harvest was a bit low. Here’s today’s collection.

The frass is in the compost, I scooped up a handful of the larvae to feed the spiders today, and the rest got dumped into a couple pounds of fresh cornmeal with an overripe banana as a treat.

I’ve got to expand this colony, just in case the situation in America becomes even more dire, and I need a source of healthy protein for myself, not just the spiders.

A little good news

The Trump administration and his unelected stooge, Elon Musk, had charged in and imposed a blanket reduction of all indirect costs to 15% — indirect costs are the mechanism used to support the infrastructure of science all across the country. This was a devastating, crippling strike against research.

Not so fast, says a judge.

A federal judge in Boston ordered a nationwide temporary pause on plans by the National Institutes of Health to substantially slash research overhead payments to universities, medical centers, and other grant recipients.

Judge Angel Kelley of the U.S. District Court for the District of Massachusetts issued the temporary restraining order late Monday night in response to a lawsuit filed that afternoon by associations representing the nation’s medical, pharmacy, and public health schools, as well as Boston and New York-area hospitals. The suit names the NIH, Department of Health and Human Services, and the acting heads of both agencies as defendants.

In the order, Kelley wrote that the defendants cannot take “any steps to implement, apply, or enforce the [policy] … in any form with respect to institutions nationwide until further order is issued by this Court.”

That’s good. Unfortunately, I don’t like the idea of judges deciding the fate of universities, because if one thing is clear, there is no objective standard in how laws are applied, especially since different judges are expressing different opinions, and the judiciary is already packed with ideologues. Thanks, Federalist Society!

Perhaps more encouraging is that some Republicans are waking up to the fact that they’re getting boned by Trump policies.

Red-state universities are hitting back at the Trump administration’s expansive cuts to science and research funding, warning they would be forced to shutter laboratories and lay off staff should they face the sudden elimination of millions of dollars in funding.

The blowback, echoed by at least two Republican senators, marks the most widespread political resistance the Trump administration has faced in its rapid sprint to reshape the federal government and its spending policies.

There are very good universities imbedded in all those red states — they provide resources and training that are essential to the economic well-being of those regions. Even Republicans know this, and they have begun stirring to defend against the Trump/Musk idiocy.

Universities in conservative strongholds have spent the last few days warning of the drastic economic and scientific toll of the new funding limit, putting fresh pressure on Republican officials to stand up for their states. The episode could also amplify scrutiny of Trump’s pick to run the Education Department, Linda McMahon, ahead of her confirmation hearing on Thursday.

Sen. Susan Collins (R-Maine) slammed the policy as “devastating” and illegal.

Oh fuck no…Susan Collins is saying she opposes it? You know what that means: as soon as an opportunity to act rises up, she’s going to vote for anything Trump says. That’s the problem: you can convince Republicans that something is against their self-interest, but when push comes to shove, they’ll align themselves with the biggest bully in the room.

I bet you think this day is about him, don’t you?

It’s Darwin Day!

And it is sort of about him, sorta. It’s not like a Catholic saint’s feast day, or like a day idolizing a Communist revolutionary, or even like gushing over a pop star. It’s a day to recognize the good work one respected scientist did, and to recognize the centrality of an influential hypothesis that he pioneered, while still recognizing his flaws.

It’s not like we can get excited about one grand unifying principle on one particular day. After all, every day is evolution day, so Charles Darwin is just a nice focus point to justify a party.