Did God Create Us, or Did We Create God?
Ashkan Farhadi
Abstract
This essay explores one of humanity’s most enduring questions: Did God create us, or did we create God? Through a multidisciplinary lens—bridging science, philosophy, and psychology—it examines the plausibility of spontaneous life creation versus the need for a creator. The first part presents scientific arguments for a naturalistic origin of life, including the vastness of the universe, the availability of essential building blocks, the role of evolution, and hypotheses like the RNA World. However, it also highlights major challenges to this view, such as extreme improbabilities, entropy, the limits of evolution as a starting mechanism, and the paradoxes embedded in self-replicating systems.
The essay then shifts to the psychological and cultural construction of God. It questions whether belief in a creator arises from rational inference, emotional need, or existential discomfort with randomness. It posits that the idea of God often reflects human values, fears, and aspirations, shaped by time and culture. A reflective poetic piece titled “My Mistake” by the author, complements the discussion, illustrating the tension between divine justice and worldly suffering, ultimately suggesting that divine distance might be the ultimate form of fairness.
Rather than asserting definitive answers, the essay invites readers to reevaluate their assumptions about life’s origin and meaning. It argues that the act of questioning itself—our capacity to wonder, seek, and reflect—may be the most remarkable creation of all.
Introduction
This question has captivated the human mind for as long as we have recorded history. The notion of creation—of our origin—has burned in our collective consciousness since the first humans looked up at the stars and wondered: "Who made all this...?"
To examine this profound question more clearly, let us divide it into two sub-questions: Did God Create Us? and Did We Create God?
Did God Create Us?
While the origin of the entire universe is an important topic, this essay focuses specifically on the creation of human beings. This narrower focus is chosen because recent scientific advances offer strong arguments in favor of spontaneous creation—without invoking a creator.
Supporters of spontaneous creation argue that the building blocks of life, such as amino acids, can naturally form under Earth-like conditions. Given the right environment, the formation of proteins—and eventually life—becomes a statistical possibility.
Furthermore, the theory of evolution provides a well-supported scientific framework for how simple life forms could gradually evolve into complex organisms, including humans. While scientists acknowledge that the probability of life arising spontaneously is extremely low—comparable to winning a cosmic lottery, they also note that low probability does not mean impossibility. Lotteries are won, after all.
Considering the vast number of planets in the universe and the enormous time scales involved, even a rare event like spontaneous life becomes plausible. Earth may simply be one of the lucky ones—and perhaps not the only one.
So, if we ask the scientific community whether life could emerge without a creator, the answer is yes. But if we ask them about the probability of such an event, the answer is: very low. To better grasp the weight of these arguments, we must look more closely at the numbers and assumptions behind them.
A Naturalistic Origin of Life
1. A Vast Universe
Scientists estimate that there are about 100 to 200 billion galaxies in the observable universe. Each galaxy contains hundreds of billions of stars. In our own Milky Way galaxy, there are an estimated 100 to 400 billion stars. Based on data from the Kepler Space Telescope and other missions, it is now believed that at least 1 in 5 stars hosts a planet in the so-called habitable zone—the region around a star where conditions might allow liquid water to exist (Petigura et al., 2013).
This leads to the estimate that the Milky Way alone could host 20 to 40 billion Earth-like planets in habitable zones.
When extrapolated across the observable universe, the number of potentially habitable planets becomes truly astronomical—possibly in the trillions.
2. A Vast Span of Time
The universe is approximately 13.8 billion years old.
This estimate is based primarily on observations of the cosmic microwave background radiation—the faint afterglow of the Big Bang—measured by satellites such as WMAP and Planck (The Planck Collaboration, 2014). These observations, combined with models of cosmic expansion, have yielded a highly consistent age for the universe.
This vast stretch of time allows even extremely improbable events—such as the spontaneous emergence of life from non-living matter—to become plausible. With both a nearly infinite number of opportunities in space and an immense amount of time, the rare could become real.
3. Available Building Blocks of Life
The third pillar of the argument for spontaneous creation is the natural availability of the chemical ingredients necessary for life. Studies have shown that amino acids—the basic units of proteins—can form spontaneously under conditions that may have existed on the early Earth. In fact, landmark experiments like the Miller-Urey experiment (1953) demonstrated that when water, methane, ammonia, and hydrogen were subjected to electric sparks (simulating lightning), several amino acids formed within days (Miller, 1953).
Moreover, organic molecules—including amino acids, nucleotides, and even simple sugars—have been found on meteorites and comets, suggesting that the ingredients of life are not unique to Earth. These molecules could have formed in space and been delivered to planets by cosmic collisions.
4. Favorable Conditions
Proponents of spontaneous creation argue that while the formation of complex molecules like proteins or nucleic acids is statistically improbable under purely random conditions, the early Earth was not a random environment. Rather, it may have offered specific favorable conditions—chemical, environmental, and catalytic—that dramatically increased the probability of molecular self-assembly.
One major hypothesis is the RNA World Hypothesis, which proposes that before DNA and proteins dominated life, RNA molecules played a central role both in storing genetic information and in catalyzing chemical reactions—functions now split between DNA and enzymes (Gilbert, 1986). This dual capability makes RNA a strong candidate for the first self-replicating system.
In laboratory experiments, researchers have demonstrated that short RNA-like molecules can form spontaneously under plausible prebiotic conditions. Furthermore, ribozymes—RNA molecules with enzymatic activity—have been observed to catalyze their own replication and the formation of peptide bonds, making them a potential stepping stone toward life.
In addition, natural catalysts—such as clay minerals, metal ions, and heat gradients near hydrothermal vents—may have accelerated chemical reactions and stabilized intermediate molecules, allowing them to persist long enough to engage in further reactions. These environmental scaffolds might have acted like primitive laboratories, increasing reaction specificity and reducing the randomness typically associated with spontaneous molecular formation.
While these mechanisms do not eliminate the element of chance, they suggest that the probability landscape was not flat; some pathways were chemically favored, making the spontaneous origin of life more plausible than purely random odds would suggest.
5. The Role of Evolution
Even if life began as a simple and spontaneous chemical phenomenon, its journey from primitive molecules to complex organisms like humans is best explained through the process of evolution. Charles Darwin’s theory of natural selection, supported by vast evidence across biology, paleontology, and genetics, shows how living organisms adapt and diversify over time.
Once the first self-replicating molecules emerged—possibly RNA or a precursor—the mechanism of variation and selection would have naturally favored more stable and efficient forms. Over billions of years, these tiny changes accumulated, eventually giving rise to cells, multicellular organisms, and complex life forms.
Fossil records reveal a clear chronology of life’s complexity increasing over time: from single-celled organisms, to simple multicellular creatures, to the explosion of biodiversity during the Cambrian period, and finally to the rise of mammals and humans. Genetic studies further confirm that all living organisms share a common ancestry, with the human genome carrying traces of this long evolutionary path.
In this framework, humans are not an exception to nature’s laws but a natural outcome of evolutionary processes—not a designed product, but an emergent result of adaptation and survival across eons.
6. The Parameter of Luck
One of the most common objections to spontaneous creation is the sheer improbability of life forming by chance. Critics argue that the odds of assembling the right molecules in the right conditions at the right time are astronomically low. And indeed, science agrees: the probability is extremely small.
But improbability is not impossibility.
To understand this better, consider the analogy of a lottery. The odds of any one person winning a major lottery jackpot are incredibly low, often one in hundreds of millions. Yet, despite these odds, someone wins. Not every day, but often once a week or once a month, depending on the lottery. Why? Because millions of people buy tickets and repeated attempts are made. Over time, even rare events happen.
In the case of life, the “lottery tickets” are the countless chemical interactions happening across trillions of planets over billions of years. The number of “attempts” is unimaginably large. So while the probability of life starting on any one planet in any one moment is very low, the total probability across time and space becomes much more reasonable.
In this sense, we are the lucky winners of a cosmic lottery. And just like with lotteries on Earth, it’s entirely possible there have been—and still are—other winners elsewhere in the universe.
Challenges to a Naturalistic Origin
1. The Parameter of Luck
Let us put some numbers into probability in spontaneous creation and examine the fallacy of Lottery. The chance of winning a standard lottery is approximately 1 in 300 million, or 1/3×10⁸, per attempt. If we reduce the frequency by an order of magnitude—say, once every year—that would correspond to odds of 1/10⁹. Adding three more powers makes the odds once every millennium (1/10¹²), and adding another seven makes the chance of winning once since the beginning of the universe—roughly 1/10¹⁹.
2. The Protein World
Now, consider the odds of forming even a single small protein—a peptide of 50 amino acids—under purely random conditions, even assuming all the necessary amino acids are already available in the environment. Estimates vary, but the chance of spontaneously forming a functional peptide of this size with correct folding and biological activity is between 1/10⁶⁶ and 1/10¹²³ (Thaxton et al., 1984).
And this is just one protein—whereas a living cell requires thousands of different proteins, each with specific functions and correct spatial arrangements. These proteins cannot merely exist independently; they must be co-localized in time and space, and must interact in an orchestrated manner to support life.
Even if one protein 'wins the lottery' and assembles spontaneously at point A at time T1, the likelihood of a second, third, or thousandth protein forming in the same place and at the same time is beyond comprehension. While the vastness of space and time may allow for rare events to occur, the simultaneous co-occurrence of thousands of such improbable events in the same location renders the argument of scale effectively mute.
3. The Assembly Dilemma: Why Proteins Alone Are Not Enough
While the spontaneous formation of amino acids and simple peptides under prebiotic conditions is often cited as evidence supporting the plausibility of life emerging without a designer, this view falters under closer examination. Life is not merely a collection of molecules—it is an intricately structured, regulated, and self-replicating system. Let us imagine, for argument's sake, that all the proteins necessary for life somehow formed in the early Earth environment. Even then, several critical and unresolved obstacles remain.
3.1. Spatial and Functional Organization
Cells are not random collections of proteins. Each protein must be precisely positioned—embedded in membranes, anchored to organelles, or floating in specific regions of the cytoplasm. Functional systems such as energy production, waste removal, and signal transmission depend on exact spatial arrangements and timing. Even if the correct proteins exist, without a blueprint for organization, they cannot collaborate to produce life-sustaining functions.
3.2. The Reverse Engineering Paradox
Proteins are essential for reading, transcribing, and replicating DNA or RNA—but the instructions for producing those same proteins reside in the DNA itself. This circular dependency creates a paradox: neither proteins nor genetic material can function or arise independently. For life to begin, the entire system must be operational simultaneously, which contradicts the step-by-step logic assumed in models of spontaneous, unguided origin.
3.3. Lack of System-Level Integration
Living organisms function through interdependent networks—including metabolic pathways, regulatory feedback loops, and error-correction systems. These subsystems are coordinated in both space and time, relying on communication and cooperation among thousands of molecular components. Such system-level integration cannot be explained by the random assembly of isolated parts; it demands a higher-level organizing principle or design.
3.4. Irreducible Requirements for Replication
Self-replication—the hallmark of life—is an extraordinarily complex process. It requires not just a template (e.g., RNA or DNA), but also a copying mechanism, energy sources, error-correcting enzymes, and cellular compartments to keep the process insulated and directed. These elements must all be co-present and co-functional from the outset. The odds of such a system emerging spontaneously and fully integrated are vanishingly small—and are not adequately accounted for by chance alone.
4. RNA World Hypothesis
While the RNA World Hypothesis proposes an elegant bridge between the chaotic chemistry of early Earth and the structured complexity of life, a closer examination reveals serious logical and probabilistic issues that challenge its plausibility.
At the heart of this hypothesis lies the idea that RNA molecules preceded proteins, acting both as carriers of genetic information and as primitive catalysts (ribozymes) that drove early biochemical reactions. However, this model encounters a series of internal contradictions.
First, consider the basic mechanism of protein synthesis. Each amino acid in a protein is coded by a codon—a sequence of three nucleotides in RNA. Therefore, to code for a peptide of just 50 amino acids, a minimum of 150 nucleotides is required. But even this is an oversimplification. In a living system, RNA doesn’t function in isolation; it requires an entire molecular infrastructure of proteins and enzymes to operate.
For instance, transfer RNA (tRNA) molecules—each of which holds and delivers a specific amino acid to the ribosome—are themselves composed of dozens of nucleotides and require correct folding to function. Even more critically, the ribosome, the site where amino acids are linked together, is a complex assembly of RNA and multiple proteins. In short, RNA may carry the instructions, but it needs a protein-based machinery to interpret and act upon them.
This leads to a paradox: the RNA World hypothesis claims that RNA came before proteins, yet the functioning of RNA itself depends on proteins for transcription, translation, error correction, and catalysis. If proteins are needed for RNA to function, then how could RNA have come first?
Furthermore, the probability of spontaneously assembling a functional 150-nucleotide RNA strand is itself astronomically low—likely even lower than that of assembling a 50-amino-acid peptide directly. And once formed, such an RNA strand would still need a highly specific three-dimensional structure, protection from degradation, and an energy source to drive reactions—none of which are guaranteed under prebiotic conditions.
Thus, rather than solving the problem of the origin of life, the RNA World hypothesis may merely relocate the improbability from proteins to RNA—offering a solution that is, in essence, an oxymoron. It proposes a precursor that depends on the very systems it is supposed to precede.
5. The Dilemma of Evolution
In defending spontaneous creation, proponents often invoke evolution as a compensatory mechanism. But one must not forget: there is no evolution without creation, and no creation without evolution. Evolution cannot begin until a self-replicating system already exists. It is not a cause of life—it is a process that refines and diversifies it after the first steps of creation have occurred.
Moreover, evolution relies on an intentional framework: the principle of "survival of the fittest." This inherently presupposes a struggle to survive, which itself presumes that a living, functioning organism already exists. In other words, survival must precede selection, and selection must precede evolution.
From a thermodynamic perspective, the spontaneous gathering of larger and more complex molecules into highly ordered systems appears to contradict the principle of entropy, which favors disorder. Without a guiding intention or organizing principle, such complex assembly is not just unlikely—it becomes incoherent within our current physical understanding.
Therefore, placing evolution in the role of origin is akin to putting the cart before the horse. Evolution does not explain how life began, only how it changed after it began. To treat it as a substitute for creation is both logically and scientifically flawed.
6. Cell Death, another unsolved puzzle.
The existence of programmed cell death (apoptosis)—a mechanism by which cells deliberately initiate their own destruction—adds another layer of complexity that challenges the evolutionary narrative. It suggests an embedded regulatory design within life itself that contradicts the logic of mere survival and self-replication, pointing instead toward intentionality from the very beginning. A riddle that can not be easily addressed by survival of the fittest moto.
7. The Entropy Paradox
One of the most compelling arguments against the spontaneous creation of life stems from the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which states that in any closed system, entropy—a measure of disorder—tends to increase over time. In simple terms, systems naturally move from order to disorder, not the other way around.
Life, however, is the very definition of order. From the folding of proteins into precise three-dimensional structures to the organization of genetic code, metabolic networks, and cellular architecture, biological systems are highly complex, structured, and regulated. The emergence of such intricate order from lifeless matter seems to contradict the natural thermodynamic direction.
Supporters of spontaneous creation often argue that Earth is not an isolated system—it receives a continuous influx of energy from the Sun, and that energy can, under the right conditions, support the emergence of local order. In this view, life is not a violation of thermodynamics but rather a pocket of order sustained by external energy flow. Some argue that life represents localized entropy reduction, balanced by greater entropy increase elsewhere. But this explanation still lacks an account of the mechanism that selects and preserves complex forms from the sea of chaos.
However, this defense sidesteps the core issue: energy alone is not sufficient to generate functional complexity. A burning forest or a supernova releases massive amounts of energy, yet disrupts order rather than creates it. For life to emerge, energy must not only be present—it must be channeled with precision, working against entropy to build systems that preserve, replicate, and regulate themselves.
This is where the entropy paradox deepens: how does blind energy flow become directed assembly? What coordinates the intricate dance of atoms to form a protein, a cell, or a living creature let alone consciousness?
If the natural tendency of the universe is toward randomness and chaos, then the emergence of life seems not only unlikely—it appears to be a reversal of the expected thermodynamic flow.
Thus, the issue of entropy remains a formidable challenge to the idea of spontaneous creation. It suggests that the rise of life may not be explained by raw chance and energy input alone, but might require an informational or organizing principle—one that is not easily reduced to physics or chemistry.
8. Fine-Tuning of the Universe
This essay focuses on life rather than the creation of the universe, but there are parts where these two cannot be separated. The fine-tuning argument is based on the observation that the values of many physical constants—such as the gravitational constant, the strong nuclear force, the weak nuclear force, and the electromagnetic force—seem to be "just right" for life to exist. If any of these constants were even slightly different, the universe would be a very different place, and life as we know it would not be possible (Collins, 2003). For example, if the strong nuclear force were a few percent weaker, protons and neutrons couldn't hold together to form atomic nuclei. If it were a few percent stronger, stars would burn out much faster, leaving no time for life to evolve. Proponents of this argument claim that this "cosmic fine-tuning" is so improbable that it points to an intelligent designer or creator. They argue that it's statistically more likely that an intelligent being set these constants to be "just right" than that they randomly fell into this narrow, life-permitting range.
9. Probability vs. Possibility
While the idea of spontaneous creation remains scientifically discussable, it becomes increasingly untenable when we bring probability into focus. Let us return to the example of building a single peptide chain—just one small protein of about 50 amino acids. The probability of such a structure forming spontaneously, even in an environment where all necessary building blocks are present, ranges from 1/10⁶⁶-1/10¹²³ . These are not just small numbers; they approach what physicists refer to as the domain of effective impossibility.
In everyday life, we constantly make decisions based not on possibility, but on probability. There is always a chance that stepping out of the house could result in a fatal car accident. Yet, because the probability is extremely low, people still get in their cars and go about their lives. Conversely, in science, we set rigorous statistical thresholds: for a scientific finding to be accepted, the probability that it is not due to random chance must typically exceed 95% confidence—or, equivalently, a p-value (probability-value) less than 0.05.
If we applied the same standard to the spontaneous creation of life, the probability that such an event was not random would be 99 with forty-four to one hundred repeating nines after the decimal point or effectively 100%. In other words, the probability that life emerged spontaneously is so low that, by any reasonable scientific or practical standard, we would consider it virtually impossible.
10. Is Science telling us the Truth; and the whole truth?
At the heart of this question lies a deeper inquiry: Why does science keep telling us that spontaneous life is possible, but not emphasize that it is exceedingly improbable? Perhaps for many, the first part of the statement is enough—there may simply be no listening ear for the second.
The answer seems to lie not in logic, but in psychology. The commitment to exploring spontaneous creation is, in part, a cognitive necessity—an exit strategy of the mind. For many, especially in secular or scientific communities, the alternative—accepting the possibility of a creator—introduces metaphysical implications that may feel uncomfortable, unverifiable, or philosophically burdensome. Thus, entertaining extremely low-probability hypotheses becomes a way to preserve intellectual autonomy—a desperate hope to keep metaphysical questions at bay.
In the end, this debate is not merely about molecules or mechanisms. It reflects how we cope with uncertainty, how we interpret evidence, and ultimately, how we define truth—whether by numbers, by reason, or by belief.
It seems that at the true center of this conversation is not just the question of how we came to be, but why we feel compelled to ask at all. Whether one leans toward the idea of a creator or clings to the hope of spontaneous origin, the very act of questioning our existence suggests something profound about human nature.
The desire to be free from any debt to an unknown creator, or from an unspoken commitment to an invisible director, may underlie the yearning for a purely natural explanation. The pursuit of meaning that transcends molecules and mathematical odds could be the psychological foundation for insisting on spontaneous creation.
In science, we search for mechanisms; in philosophy, for coherence; in belief, for purpose. Perhaps the answer is not found in choosing one over the other, but in recognizing that the capacity to wonder, to weigh improbabilities, to imagine alternatives, and to seek truth is itself a sign that we are taking one step closer to understanding ourselves and our origins and that may be the most extraordinary creation of all.
Did We Create God?
Having examined the improbability of spontaneous creation and the psychological basis for resisting the idea of a creator, we now turn the question inward: Did we create God? Or more precisely, why do we feel the need to create the idea of God?
Throughout history, humans have reached for something greater—something beyond the self—to explain the unknown, to give meaning to suffering, to justify morality, or to feel protected in a world of chaos. In this view, God may not be merely a metaphysical entity, but a psychological necessity—a construct born of fear, awe, longing, and wonder.
From ancient mythologies to monotheistic religions, the idea of God has taken many forms—creator, lawgiver, judge, redeemer—each shaped by the cultural and existential needs of its time. Whether it is the thunder god commanding the storm or the abstract deity of pure consciousness, the form of God often mirrors the state of human understanding and the emotional climate of civilization.
So perhaps the better question is not whether God created us, but what within us leads us to create God. One may see God as a necessity, an expression of ignorance, a safety net, a companion, an insurance policy, or simply the source of hope and love. Alternatively, one may see no place for God in either their physical or spiritual life.
Nonetheless, the overwhelming improbability of spontaneous creation should prompt anyone sincerely seeking truth to reconsider their perspective. They must ask: Where, and to what extent, do I allow the presence of a creator into my understanding of life and self?
In the following section, we will explore the psychological, social, and existential dimensions of this question—not to prove or disprove God, but to better understand whether randomness is a viable final explanation for existence, or whether a creator may hold a role not just in the origin of life, but in the meaning and direction of our own.
What Kind of God do we Want?
If God does not directly reveal itself to humanity, then how can one know its roles or responsibilities—except by constructing them in the mind? It is no surprise, then, that the idea of God takes as many shapes and forms as there are living, thinking beings. In part, God becomes a mental construct, shaped by one’s culture, beliefs, imagination, fears, hopes, and needs.
Given this, it is natural to ask: What kind of God do we prefer?
The answers to this question are as diverse as human perspectives themselves. For those who crave order and justice, a God who judges, punishes, and rewards becomes appealing in the form of a moral authority who enforces the rules we wish others would follow. For those longing for unconditional love, the ideal God is a benevolent presence: forgiving, nurturing, always near. Others, seeking relief from uncertainty, may imagine a God who acts as the designer of fate, offering a sense of control in a chaotic world.
God may take the shape of the personal or impersonal, the merciful or wrathful, the distant or immanent—depending on what the human mind needs at a particular moment. But here lies a subtle paradox: often, the God we seek is not a transcendent other, but a refined projection of ourselves—a picture-perfect reflection of who we aspire to be.
So when we ask, “What kind of God is more appealing?”, we may really be asking, “What kind of world do I want to live in?” A world of justice, compassion, certainty, and love.
In creating our God, we may not only be seeking answers, but shaping mirrors—mirrors that reveal who we are, and who we long to become.
My Mistake
I saw my friend a few days past.
He was so upset with the newscast.
The war, politics, and hunger—
he could not take it any longer.
He said: "The world is nothing but a mess.
If there is a God, he should be ashamed of this place.
How can we imagine, he is in charge,
when there is no fairness, no justice at large?"
"People are dying and suffering everywhere."
He was suffocating, gasping for air.
Then I started thinking straight,
If there is a director for our fate.
Why is He letting us live in hell,
when he could solve all problems so well?
Why has he kept heaven so far away,
that the only path there is is to pass away?
Then I thought to myself a second time:
If there is a God, what kind do I want?
Do I want a God who gives hope by faith,
or one who delivers all wishes straight?
Do I want him showing my lies to my face,
or the one who conceals my faults with his grace?
Do I want him to prevent all my mistakes,
or let me make them and learn from their stakes?
Do I want a perfect world, fully staged,
or a flawed one to keep me engaged?
Pain and suffering provide me tasks,
a place of work, a job to do, if someone asks.
Do I want a God who answers my praying,
or one ensuring I get my fair sharing?
Would it be fair if he made my wish come true,
while ignoring others for the sake of a few?
Do I want him to elevate me to perfection,
or set the bar and leave me to reflection?
The one who loves me even when I’m flawed,
the one who supports me even when I’m a fraud.
The one who believes in me when I won’t,
the one who trusts in me when I don’t.
Then I realized the world could not be more just,
when anything but cause and effect is bust.
His lack of meddling makes him fair,
when we think about it in despair.
I feel he is here, close and in charge
Even when we feel he is missing at large
Referrences
· Collins, R. (2003). The teleological argument: An exploration of the fine-tuning of the universe. In W. L. Craig & J. P. Moreland (Eds.), The Blackwell companion to natural theology (pp. 202-282). Blackwell Publishing.
· Gilbert, W. (1986). The RNA world. Nature, 319(6055), 618.
· Miller, S. L. (1953). A production of amino acids under possible primitive Earth conditions. Science, 117(3046), 528-529.
· Petigura, E. A., Howard, A. W., & Marcy, G. W. (2013). Prevalence of Earth-size planets orbiting Sun-like stars. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 110(48), 19273–19278.
· The Planck Collaboration. (2014). Planck 2013 results. XVI. Cosmological parameters. Astronomy & Astrophysics, 571, A16.
· Thaxton, C. B., Bradley, W. L., & Olsen, R. L. (1984). The mystery of life's origin: Reassessing current theories. Philosophical Library.