What Do We Mean By Information

One of the most compelling arguments for the existence of a cosmic designer, a God, is based on the fact that there's an enormous amount of information packed into every cell in every living thing in the world. Since information, wherever we encounter it, is the product of a mind and never the product of chance or physical processes, it's reasonable to assume that the information in the cell is probably also the product of a mind.

The argument is especially compelling when we consider the information content of the very first cell, a structure which must've been at least as complex as a computer, which must've been able to metabolize nutrients and replicate itself and which must've emerged before the standard Darwinian processes of mutation and natural selection were operative.

But what is information?

Eric Holloway at Mind Matters helps us get a handle on it. He writes:

We know information when we see it. An article contains information. A photograph contains information. The thoughts in our mind contain information. So does a computer program and so do our genomes.

Yet other things we see around us clearly do not contain information. A handful of toothpicks dropped on the ground does not. Nor do the swirling tea leaves in a cup. Neither does a pair of tossed dice nor a sequence of 100 coin flips. But mere disorder is not the clue. An intricate snowflake does not contain information either.

Can we state the difference between the article and the scattered toothpicks precisely? That’s tricky.

Clearly, complexity is a necessary feature of an entity that contains information—but it is not sufficient.

A monkey pounding on a computer keyboard would produce a complex pattern of symbols, but it's not information, at least not in the relevant sense we find in living cells, such as the genetic code inscribed on DNA.

So, what's needed to qualify as information in this relevant sense? What's the difference between the sequence of letters produced by the monkey and the sequence of letters found in a Dickens novel?

The raw matter of an article is letters and punctuation. If we distribute letters and punctuation randomly on a page, without applying an external pattern, then we get something that is without pattern and uninformative. On the other hand, if we take our letters and punctuation, and arrange them so as to express our thoughts (an external, specified pattern), suddenly the arrangement becomes informative to a reader.

In other words, the sequence of letters produced by the monkey, though complex, doesn't inform. It has no meaning. It doesn't specify a recognizable pattern.

A landscaper who plants flowers in a pattern that spells out "Welcome to Our Town" has created a complex arrangement that specifies a meaningful pattern. It's information. The same flowers strewn randomly around a field may form a complex distribution, but they wouldn't specify a meaningful pattern and therefore do not constitute information.

The DNA/RNA arrangement is extremely complex and specifies a meaningful code responsible for synthesizing proteins. Moreover, it requires the assistance of proteins to aid it in synthesizing the very proteins it requires.

How this amazing ensemble arose apart from the input of a mind is orders of magnitude more mysterious than how the flowers would've spelled out "Welcome to Our Town" without the input of an intelligent landscaper.

Indeed, the only reason for doubting the existence of an intelligent "landscaper" is a metaphysical prejudice in favor of naturalism that leads one to conclude that despite the difficulties of explaining how an information-rich cell could have arisen by chance, we're mistaken to conclude that God did it.

And why are we mistaken? Because we know a priori that there is no God.

This is what's called circular reasoning, and it's not very convincing.