John G. Messerly's Blog, page 39

Will Durant on Youth and Old Age

Will Durant wondered if there is something suggestive about the cycle of a human life that sheds light on its meaning, a theme explored in his 1929 book The Mansions of Philosophy. (Later retitled The Pleasures of Philosophy[image error].) He admits that “life is in its basis a mystery, a river flowing from an unseen source; and in its development an infinite subtlety too complex for thought, much less for utterance.”[i]

Still, we seek answers. Undeterred by the difficulty of his task, Durant suggests that reflection on the microcosm of a human life might yield insights into the meaning of all life and death. Thus he looks at a typical human life cycle for clues about cosmic meaning.

In children, Durant saw curiosity, growth, urgency, playfulness, and discontent. In later youth, the struggle continues as we learn to read, work, love, and discover the world’s evils. In middle age, we are often consumed by work and family life, and for the first time, we see the reality of death. Still, in family life, people usually find great pleasure and the best of all human conditions.  

In old age, the reality of death comes nearer. If we have lived well we might graciously leave the stage for new players to perform a better play. But what if life endlessly repeats its sufferings, with youth making the same mistakes as their elders, and all leading to death? Is this the final realization of old age? Such thoughts gnaw at our hearts and poison aging.

So Durant wonders if we must die for life. If we are not individuals but cells in life’s body, then we die so that life remains strong, death removing the rubbish as the new life created defeats death. This perpetuation of life gives life meaning. “If it is one test of philosophy to give life a meaning that shall frustrate death, wisdom will show that corruption comes only to the part, that life itself is deathless while we die.”[ii] Durant describes this idea with one of the most moving and poignant images of the cycle of life to be found in all of world literature.

Here is an old man on the bed of death, harassed with helpless friends and wailing relatives. What a terrible sight it is – this thin frame with loosened and cracking flesh, this toothless mouth in a bloodless face, this tongue that cannot speak, these eyes that cannot see! To this pass youth has come, after all its hopes and trials; to this pass middle age, after all its torment and its toil. To this pass health and strength and joyous rivalry; this arm once struck great blows and fought for victory in virile games. To this pass knowledge, science, wisdom: for seventy years this man with pain and effort gathered knowledge; his brain became the storehouse of a varied experience, the center of a thousand subtleties of thought and deed; his heart through suffering learned gentleness as his mind learned understanding; seventy years he grew from an animal into a man capable of seeking truth and creating beauty. But death is upon him, poisoning him, choking him, congealing his blood, gripping his heart, bursting his brain, rattling in his throat. Death wins

Outside on the green boughs birds twitter, and Chantecler sings his hymn to the sun. Light streams across the fields; buds open and stalks confidently lift their heads; the sap mounts in the trees. Here are children: what is it that makes them so joyous, running madly over the dew-wet grass, laughing, calling, pursuing, eluding, panting for breath, inexhaustible? What energy, what spirit and happiness! What do they care about death? They will learn and grow and love and struggle and create, and lift life up one little notch, perhaps, before they die. And when they pass they will cheat death with children, with parental care that will make their offspring finer than themselves. There in the garden’s twilight lovers pass, thinking themselves unseen; their quiet words mingle with the murmur of insects calling to their mates; the ancient hunger speaks through eager and through lowered eyes, and a noble madness courses through clasped hands and touching lips. Life wins.[iii]

This is stirring prose, but we remain forlorn. Perhaps we should give up our ego attachment, and leave for the sake of the species. But why? What’s wrong with loving life so much that one never wants to let go? What’s wrong with loving others so much as to never want them to go either? Besides, it is wasteful for life to start over each time, having to relearn old truths and unlearn old falsehoods. Perhaps life won’t win in the end; perhaps it will destroy itself instead. Durant’s portrait doesn’t soothe our worries about the futility of an infinite repetition of life’s trials and tribulations. I wish I felt differently.

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[i] Will Durant, The Mansions of Philosophy: A Survey of Human Life and Destiny (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1929) 397

[ii] Durant, The Mansions of Philosophy: A Survey of Human Life and Destiny, 407.

[iii] Durant, The Mansions of Philosophy: A Survey of Human Life and Destiny, 407-08.

(Note. This post originally appeared on March 12, 2014.)

Philosophers on Hope

[image error]A rose expressing hope, at Auschwitz concentration camp

In previous posts (here and here), I’ve been discussing hope, and I’d like to now briefly summarize the standard account of hope among professional philosophers.1 Here’s how the discussion of hope begins in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy:

Hope is not only an attitude that has cognitive components—it is responsive to facts about the possibility and likelihood of future events. It also has a conative component—hopes are different from mere expectations insofar they reflect and draw upon our desires.2

So hope encompasses both cognitive and non-cognitive aspects of the mind. The cognitive component assesses possibilities and probabilities, the non-cognitive component has to do with desires.

In the “standard account,” hope consists of both a belief in an outcome’s possibility and a desire for that outcome. Here is the“standard account,” as defined by R. S. Downie:

There are two criteria which are independently necessary and jointly sufficient for ‘hope that’. The first is that the object of hope must be desired by the hoper. […] The second […] is that the object of hope falls within a range of physical possibility which includes the improbable but excludes the certain and the merely logically possible.

Or, as J. P. Day writes, “A hopes that p” is true iff “A wishes that p, and A thinks that p has some degree of probability, however small” is true.

The standard definition of “hoping that,” conforms to my definition of wishful hoping. So nothing about the standard definition gainsays the kind of hope that I advocate. 

And here’s a different take, “The artist’s job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence. “~ Gertrude Stein

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1. My summary borrowed from the entry on hope in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

2. Conation is any natural tendency, impulse, striving, or directed effort.[1]

Freedom House

[image error]Eleanor Roosevelt with the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1949

A number of readers have asked me to update my Best Countries to Live In list. While I haven’t been able to update every index, I have added the Global Freedom Scores produced by Freedom House and incorporated those scores into the overall rankings

Freedom House works to defend human rights and promote democratic change, with a focus on political rights and civil liberties. The Global Freedom Scores rate people’s access to political rights and civil liberties—ranging from the right to vote to freedom of expression and equality before the law— in 210 countries and territories through its annual Freedom in the World report.

The Global Freedom Scores are #13 on my list. For more see my revised list of Best Countries To Live In.

My Hardest Classes

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Here is my response to the question, “what are the hardest classes you ever took or taught?”

Difficult Because of Apathy

The undergraduate classes I found most difficult were the 3 I took in German. The problem was that I took these classes to satisfy the foreign language requirement and I wasn’t motivated to study. (I now believe learning a foreign language to be a worthwhile pursuit.) My lack of interest probably led to my finding German hard, although perhaps I just don’t have much talent for foreign languages. But I’ll admit to barely passing.

Difficult Because of Lack of Background 

There were a number of graduate classes that were quite challenging, even given my abiding interest in philosophy. When I took “Late Medieval: Scotus and Ockham” in my first semester of graduate school I had little knowledge of Medieval Philosophy or the Greek Philosophy on which it was built. Not knowing Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, or Aquinas made understanding Scotus and Ockham challenging. Moreover, I wasn’t interested then nor am I interested now in Medieval Philosophy.

“The Concept of Time” was also quite challenging as I had no background in relativity theory, the Minkowski Light Cone, or much of contemporary physics. Furthermore, the concepts here: the A and B series of time, eternalism, presentism, etc. are relatively abstract. Now however I find time one of the most important ideas in philosophy.

“Phenomenology: Husserl and Shutz” was my introduction to phenomenology and it was radically different from the more analytic tradition with which I was familiar. What are the epoche and the eidetic reduction anyway? I understand the basics, but not that well.

Difficult Because They’re Just Difficult

I took “Aristotle’s Metaphysics” as an independent study class. Let me tell you that is no easy read. According to Avicenna, “even after 40 times reading the Metaphysics [he says] that Aristotle’s Metaphysics is not understandable…” So I’m in good company. Page upon page about the meaning of the word ουσία (roughly translates to substance, essence, matter, gist, nature, being) … well that’s tough going.

“Hegel: Totality and Domination” Hegel is, in my view, the toughest read in the Western Canon. (Kant is a close second.) I read the preface to The Phenomenology of Spirit multiple times and I never really understood it. And that’s just the preface! I can read a summary of Hegel and I can discuss the Absolute, the dialectic, Geist, etc., but his primary texts are the most difficult material I’ve read. Fortunately, I never had to teach Hegel.

Difficult Classes To Teach

I never taught anything that I hadn’t mastered well enough to teach undergraduates. I was simply too insecure to go into a class without having (mostly) mastered the material. I didn’t want to be unable to answer questions or explain something. If I didn’t understand it myself how was I to explain it to others. But if I had to pick out the most difficult one I’d say Symbolic Logic.

This was mostly due to the fact that I was in my mid-50s before I taught the class. So, first of all, it had been more than 30 years since I had taken the class, and second, one’s ability to do math and logic just isn’t the same in one’s fifties as when one in their teens or twenties. It’s the only class I ever taught where I thought of my best students “they might be better at this than I am!”And some of them probably were. But I learned a lot teaching the class and I still benefit from that intellectual stimulation in my fifties. I’d probably benefit from learning a foreign language in my sixties too. But please, no more German:)

Optimism

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The Australian philosophers Michael and Caldwell make a pragmatic case for optimism in, “The Consolations of Optimism.” (This relates to my previous post, “Hope: A Defense.”)They argue that the optimist and pessimist may agree on the facts, but not on their attitude toward those facts: “optimism is an attitude, not a theoretical position.” So optimism doesn’t assume any cluster of beliefs, and can’t be undermined for being irrational like a belief can.

The reason for preferring optimism has nothing to do with how the world is—optimism isn’t a description of reality. Instead, optimism is reasonable because it helps us live well. To better understand this reasonable optimism, the authors turn to the Stoics. We often characterize the Stoics as emotionless and indifferent; individuals who put up with their fate, accept life’s shortcomings and live without hope. Such resignation is cynical and pessimistic. But the authors interpret stoicism differently. Stoics, they say, advocate embracing what we cannot change rather than fighting against it. Thus Stoicism is realistic, not cynical.

So a stoical attitude doesn’t mean not caring or being indifferent to unpleasant things, rather it doesn’t add lamenting to one’s caring. (This caring is like my hoping or wishing.) Stoics don’t deny that pain and suffering exist—because that is to deny reality—but accept such evils without resenting them. The Stoics reject responding to situations with strong, irrational emotions that would cloud judgment, counseling instead to remain calm and optimistic.“This way of experiencing pains without losing equanimity is the key to stoical optimism.” Optimism leads to happiness and is therefore reasonable.

The pessimist demands things from reality and resents that reality does not provide them. Optimists are typically more accepting of the world’s limitations. Of course, optimists may lose their optimism when bad fortune strikes, but they are generally happier than pessimists—this is the rational ground for optimism. Yet optimism is not wishful thinking. Wishful thinking involves beliefs that are false, whereas optimism is an attitude that does not necessarily involve beliefs.

Furthermore, optimism has other positive results, as the case of Hume’s attitude toward his impending death reveals. Diagnosed with a fatal disease, Hume began his ruminations on his situation thus: “I was ever more disposed to see the favorable than unfavorable side of things: a turn of mind which it is more happy to possess, than to be born to an estate of ten thousand a year… It is difficult to be more detached from life than I am at the present.” While many fear death or react variously in ways that disturb tranquility “Hume’s calm and sanguine resignation stands like a beacon of reasonableness, calling out for emulation.”

To summarize, optimism is a reasonable response to life because we are happier, and our lives go better, when we are optimists-–although we know that our efforts may be in vain.

Optimism Reconsidered

Saul Alinsky also made the case for optimism:

My personal philosophy is anchored in optimism. It must be, for optimism brings with it hope, a future with a purpose, and therefore, a will to fight for a better world. The question arises: Why the struggle, the conflict, the heartbreak, the danger, the sacrifice? Why the constant climb? Our answer is the same as that which a mountain climber gives when he is asked why he does what he does: “Because it is there.” Because life is there ahead of you and either one tests oneself in its challenges or huddles in the valleys in a dreamless day-to-day existence whose only purpose is the preservation of an illusory security and safety.

My friend and graduate school mentor Richard Blackwell conveyed a similar theme in a hand-written letter to me more than twenty years ago:

As to your “what does it all mean” questions, you do not really think that I have strong clear replies when no one else since Plato has had much success! It may be more fruitful to ask about what degree of confidence one can expect from attempted answers, since too high expectations are bound to be dashed. It’s a case of Aristotle’s advice not to look for more confidence than the subject matter permits. At any rate, if I am right about there being a strong volitional factor here, why not favor an optimistic over a pessimistic attitude, which is something one can control to some degree? This is not an answer, but a way to live.

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Michaelis Michael & Peter Caldwell, “The Consolations of Optimism,” (2004) in Life, death, and meaning, ed. David Benatar, (Lanham MD.: Rowman & Littlefield, 2004), 383.
Michael & Caldwell, “The Consolations of Optimism,” 386.
Michael & Caldwell, “The Consolations of Optimism,” 389.
Michael & Caldwell, “The Consolations of Optimism,” 390.

Should We Have Hope?

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Pandora trying to close the box that she had opened out of curiosity. At left, the evils of the world taunt her as they escape. The engraving is based on a painting by F. S. Church.

Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torment of men. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

For the past few weeks, we investigated the concept of hope. In the process we have come to offer a spirited defense of hope and, to a lesser extent, optimism. I’d now like to “play the flip side,” as an old colleague used to say, and consider some critics of hope.

Kazantzakis’ Case Against Hope

I have previously expressed my affinity for the thought of the Greek novelist Nikos Kazantzakis (1883 – 1957). I have also discussed his case against hope in detail in, “Kazantzakis’ Epitaph: Rejecting Hope.” Here are a few highlights of his case against hope:

… leave the heart and the mind behind you, go forward … Free yourself from the simple complacency of the mind that thinks to put all things in order and hopes to subdue phenomena. Free yourself from the terror of the heart that seeks and hopes to find the essence of things. Conquer the last, the greatest temptation of all: Hope …

Why should we abandon hope according to Kazantzakis? Because we often lose hope and cease acting. Instead, we should seek and strive, even if our efforts are in vain. Don’t hope for good outcomes, or understanding, or meaning, he counsels, but ascend and move forward. We are tempted by hope, but the courageous live without it, carrying on in its absence. Kazantzakis describes his rejection of hope or optimism, in this passage from his autobiography, Report to Greco:

Nietzsche taught me to distrust every optimistic theory. I knew that [the human] heart has constant need of consolation, a need to which that super-shrewd sophist the mind is constantly ready to minister. I began to feel that every religion which promises to fulfill human desires is simply a refuge for the timid, and unworthy of a true man … We ought, therefore, to choose the most hopeless of world views, and if by chance we are deceiving ourselves and hope does exist, so much the better … in this way man’s soul will not be humiliated, and neither God nor the devil will ever be able to ridicule it by saying that it became intoxicated like a hashish-smoker and fashioned an imaginary paradise out of naiveté and cowardice—in order to cover the abyss. The faith most devoid of hope seemed to me not the truest, perhaps, but surely the most valorous. I considered the metaphysical hope an alluring bait which true men do not condescend to nibble …

Note – The hope that Kazantzakis rejects is metaphysical and forward-looking, and I too reject such hopes. And he wants us to act, which I argue is the essence of hope. Thus nothing he says here undermines the kind of hope I advocate.  

Nietzsche’s Pessimism

There are many great pessimists in the Western philosophical tradition—Voltaire, Rousseau, Schopenhauer, and others—but let’s focus on Nietzsche. He associates weak pessimism with Eastern renunciation; strong pessimism with an Eastern notion of harmonizing contradictions; and Socratic optimism with Western philosophy’s emphasis on logic, beauty, goodness, and truth. Nietzsche’s pessimism refers to the fact that reality is cruel, irrational, and always changing; while optimism is the view that reality is orderly, intelligible, and open to betterment. Optimists mistakenly believe that they can overcome the abyss and make the world better by action, but Nietzsche wants us to see reality realistically and be pessimists.

Yet Nietzsche doesn’t want us to be weak pessimists like the Buddha, who advised us to eliminate desires, or like Schopenhauer, who believed that in resignation from striving we find freedom. Instead, Nietzsche wants us to be strong pessimists who affirm life rather than renounce it, who fill life with their enthusiasm, and who take pleasure in what is hard and terrible. Salvation and freedom come from accepting the contradictory and destructive nature of reality and responding with joyous affirmation.

In other words, Nietzsche’s response to the tragedy of life is neither resignation nor self-denial, but a life-affirming pessimism. He sees Socratic philosophy and most religion as an optimistic refuge for those who will not accept the tragic sense of life. But he also rejects Schopenhauer’s pessimism and nihilism. Nietzsche’s pessimism says yes to life. He counsels us to embrace life and suffer joyfully.

Note – Nietzsche’s thoughts are consistent with Kazantzakis’ and my own. He rejects both resignation and a hope which includes expectations. Instead, he calls us to action, as do I.  Thus nothing he says here undermines the kind of hope I advocate.  

Stoicism

While Michael and Caldwell used Stoicism to defend caring without lamentation, a view that they argue is consistent with optimism, most interpret the Stoics differently. For example, consider how the Stoics address the issue of anxiety. When you are anxious, most people try to cheer you up by telling you things will be ok. But the Stoics hate consolation meant to give hope—the opiate of the emotions. They believe that we must eliminate hope to find inner peace because hoping for the best makes things worse, especially because your hopes are inevitably dashed. Instead, they advise that we tell ourselves that things will get worse because, when we envision the worst, we will discover that we can manage it. And if things get too bad, the Stoics remind us that we can always commit suicide.

Or consider the Stoics on anger. Anger comes when misplaced hopes smash into unforeseen reality. We get mad, not at every bad thing, but at bad, unexpected things. So we should expect bad things—not hope they don’t occur—and then we won’t be angry when things go wrong. Wisdom is reaching a state where no expected or unexpected tragedy disturbs our inner peace, so again we do best without hope. Still, this doesn’t imply total resignation to our fate; there are still some things we might be able to change.

Finally, to better understand the Stoics rejection of hope, let’s listen to Seneca:

[t]hey [hope and fear] are bound up with one another, unconnected as they may seem. Widely different though they are, the two of them march in unison like a prisoner and the escort he is handcuffed to. Fear keeps pace with hope. Nor does their so moving together surprise me; both belong to a mind in suspense, to a mind in a state of anxiety through looking into the future. Both are mainly due to projecting our thoughts far ahead of us instead of adapting ourselves to the present.

Note – The Stoics reject hope as expectation, lamentation, and consolation; not hope as action. Thus nothing they say here undermines the kind of hope I advocate.  

Simon Critchley’s Case Against Hope

Simon Critchley, chair and professor of philosophy at The New School for Social Research in New York City, recently penned this piece in the New York Times: “Abandon (Nearly) All Hope.” In it, he defends a theme similar to the one he argued for in his book, Very Little … Almost Nothing … [image error](I reviewed the book on this blog.) Critchley regards hope as another redemptive narrative, or perhaps as an element in all redemptive narratives. Instead of succumbing to the temptation of hope, he suggests we be realistic and brave—a view reminiscent of the one held by Nietzsche and Kazantzakis.

Critchley begins by asking: “Is it [hope] not rather a form of moral cowardice that allows us to escape from reality and prolong human suffering?” If hope is escapism or wishful thinking, if it is blind to reality or contrary to all evidence, then it is a form of moral cowardice?

To elucidate these ideas Critchley recalls Thucydides’ story of the Greeks’ ultimatum to the Melians—surrender or die. Rather than submit, the Melians hoped for a reprieve from their allies or their gods, despite the evidence that such hopes were misplaced. The reprieve never comes, and all the Melians were either killed or enslaved. In such situations, Critchley counsels, not hope, but courageous realism. False hopes will seal our doom as they did the Milians. From such considerations, Critchley concludes: “You can have all kinds of reasonable hopes … But unless those hopes are realistic we will end up in a blindly hopeful (and therefore hopeless) idealism … Often, by clinging to hope, we make the suffering worse.”

Note – I too reject false hopes, but Critchley admits you can have reasonable hopes. Thus nothing he says here undermines the kind of hope I advocate.  

Oliver Burkeman on Hope as Deception

In a recent column in the Guardian, Oliver Burkeman argued that what is often called hope is really deception—hoping for things that are virtually impossible. For example, hoping that one wins the lottery, or that the victims of an accident have survived when their deaths are near certainties.

By contrast, letting go of hope often sets us free. To support this claim he refers to “recent research … suggesting that hope makes people feel worse.” For instance: the unemployed who hope to find work are less happy than those who accept they won’t work again; those in the state of hoping for a miraculous cure for a terminal disease are less happy than those who accept that they will die; and people more often act for change when they stop hoping that others will do so. Perhaps there is something about giving up hope and accepting a reality that is comforting.

Note – I too reject hope with expectations. Thus nothing he says here undermines the kind of hope I advocate.  

My Reflections

The common theme in these critiques is the futility of false hopes, which lead inevitably to disappointment. I agree. If I hope to become the world’s most famous author or greatest tennis player, my expectations are bound to be dashed. Silly to hope for such things. Much better to hope that I enjoy writing or tennis despite my shortcomings in both.

For instance, when confronted by the reality of the concentration camps, Viktor Frankl didn’t hope to dig his way out of his prison. That was nearly impossible. Instead, he hoped that the war would end and he might be freed. That was realistic. Thus the difference between false and realistic hope. The former is delusional, the latter worthwhile. Sometimes only fools keep believing; sometimes you should stop believing. False hopes prolong the misery.

But I want to know if I’m justified in hoping (without expectation) that life has meaning or that truth, beauty, and goodness matter. And I think I am. Why? Because regarding questions about the ultimate purpose of ourselves and the cosmos, we just don’t know enough to say that hope is unjustified. It is reasonable to think that life might have meaning, it is not impossible that it does. Thus this is not a false hope, even if the object of my hopes may not be fulfilled.

Thus we can legitimately hope that life is meaningful without being moral cowards. Of course, life may be pointless and meaningless. We just don’t know. But if we bravely accept that we just don’t know whether life is meaningful or not, then we live with moral and intellectual integrity. And there is no more honest or better way to live.

My Ancestors Slept Here

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by Lawrence Rifkin MD

When I, mild-mannered guy, journeyed to wild remote Africa, I made sure my mind was revved up with knowledge of evolution, and my body was revved up with vaccinations of typhoid, yellow fever, hepatitis A, tetanus, polio, meningococcus, and measles.

With the best of romantic intentions, in a small gift box, I had surprised my wife on our 25th wedding anniversary with two blank airplane tickets and a pencil. “Write in wherever you want to go in the world,” I offered magnanimously.

I think her scream of happiness punctured my eardrum.

I do not believe, however, that my gut reaction to her choice of the wild jungles of Uganda was the romantic response she was looking for. I said, “Why don’t we just go to the zoo, stare at the hippos, and skip malaria altogether?”

But the best advice I ever heard was “if you can’t get out of it, get into it.” So that’s what I did. I decided to experience Africa in my own way, immersed with a background scientific appreciation for a place that is the bedrock of life, the cradle of evolution, and the birth home of humans. I thought of it like going back as an adult to visit the childhood home in which I was born and spent my early toddler years — a place about which I have no conscious memories, but which nonetheless shaped my experience and underlies who I am and where I came from.

Our focus in Uganda was on primates. The last common ancestor of humans and chimpanzees, before the lines diverged, was about 6 million years ago. Few realize that for much of these 6 million years, at least 27 separate human species evolved. Usually, more than one human species existed at the same time.

But over time all the other human species went extinct (Neanderthal being just one of many extinct human species), leaving just us, Homo sapiens sapiens, as the sole surviving human species. Chimpanzees and bonobos also survived, and so chimps and bonobos are our closest living relatives. I wanted to encounter, as genuinely as possible, a sense of what our ancestors’ lives were like.

Kibale Forest National Park in Uganda has one of the highest concentrations of primates in the world. We booked the Chimpanzee Habituation Experience through the Uganda Wildlife Federation. Habituation is a process whereby wild animals get used to human presence without altering their natural behavior. Along with an armed scout and a guide, we spent an entire day with a group of chimps, often just a few feet away, immersed in their world.

We saw playing, hoots of greeting, feats of climbing and swinging, submissive and dominant displays among ranked males, snuggling together during naps, making nests in tree branches, eating in fig-trees, and patrolling territory. A wild chimp would be hanging upside down on a branch in front of us, while next to us on the ground a chimp would lie on his back and scratch his foot. When they rested, we rested. When they moved, we moved with them.

There was one female in heat, physically evident by her blatantly swollen pink bottom. At one point a male chimp stood behind her to mount. In two seconds — no exaggeration — the act of intimacy had been initiated, consummated, and completed. Two seconds. When he was done, he just sat down and yawned repeatedly.

During the day, this one female in heat had a similarly brief — shall we say efficient? — coital interaction with every adult male in the group. It turns out that when female chimps are in heat, one mating strategy is to have sex with every mature male in the group. Adult male chimps will sometimes kill infants that are not their own genetic offspring. With this mating strategy, any male could be the father. So each of the males accepts a new infant as part of the group.

We saw chimps with expressive faces and eyes, patting each other, touching, angry, playful. I don’t see how one could doubt that we are related to chimps. It is more than just anatomic similarity. Studies have demonstrated that chimps can reason, show symbolic representation, and have a concept of self. Chimps are so closely related to us that humans can receive a blood transfusion from a chimp with the same blood type. And chimps can similarly receive human blood.

Chimps share about 98% of our DNA. That shows our extraordinary proximity from an evolutionary genetic perspective.

Still, the connection only goes so far. It does not mean humans are 98% chimp. Bananas share 50% of our DNA, but most humans are not 50% banana. As Jeremy Taylor put it: “To call the difference quantitative between alarm calls, food-specific grunts, whoops and Shakespeare; between night nests and twig tools, and the A380 passenger jet; and between retribution and food-sharing, and Aristotle and Mills, is, to my mind, stretching a point, and a bit of an insult to human ingenuity and culture.”

I learned on the trip one does not have to be Bear Grylls to experience adventures. I now have a deeper felt experience of humanity’s evolutionary home. But, still, if your circumstances allow, I would strongly caution you to be wary of the phrase “long-drop toilet” and “bucket shower” when considering accommodations. Just a suggestion.

Several subspecies of chimps and gorillas currently live north of the Congo River, in the forests of Uganda and surrounding regions in Africa. This strongly suggests that the common ancestors of humans, chimps, bonobos, and gorillas lived here. My father, who is big into American history, gets chills when he visits historical sites and stands at the very exact spot of famous events, such as at Gettysburg battlefield or Ford’s Theatre. That is how I felt being in Kibale Forest. Before the human/Pan split, this is where we lived. We are all African.

I do not get as emotional as my father when seeing a sign which reads “George Washington slept here.” But I was deeply moved by the signs all around me in Kibale — in the trees, in the apes, in my heart — that read, to me at least, “My ancestors slept here.”

(The views expressed are those of the author and are not necessarily those of Scientific American—where this essay first appeared on July 23, 2013. Reprinted with the author’s permission.)

Should You Move Out of the USA if Possible?

[image error]The good advice (original title: Le bon conseil), by Jean-Baptiste Madou.

(Update Jan 20, 2021 – These concerns have been slightly lessened with the election of competent, moral leadership in the USA. However, the damage done over the last 40 years by Republicans will take decades to reverse. For more see “The Best Countries to Live In.”)

(Update Jan 4, 2021 – The current US president, and many members of his party’s attempt to ignore the will of the people after losing an election by more than 7 million votes—and thereby engineer an autocoup—foretells extreme danger in the USA. If members of that party control both the House and the Senate in the future they may be able to invalidate any presidential election results they don’t like. This would lead to tyranny. For more see “The Best Countries to Live In.”)

(Update April 8, 2020 – The Republican party-led government’s response to the Covid-19 pandemic reveals the danger we face with government in the hands of those who don’t believe in it. I urge my readers, especially those with young children, to strongly consider leaving the USA. For more see “The Best Countries to Live In.”)

(Update April 8, 2020 – The Republican party-led government’s response to the Covid-19 pandemic reveals the danger we all face with government in the hands of those who don’t believe in it. Strongly consider leaving the USA. For more see my best countries list.)

(Update November 11, 2019 – We are on the verge of violence and fascism. Strongly consider leaving the USA. For more see my best countries list.)

(Update July 21, 2019 – The situation is getting worse. I encourage anyone with the means to seriously consider leaving the country.)

(Update June 30, 2018 – This situation is getting progressively worse. The fascism/
authoritarianism in America is increasingly apparent. The executive and judicial branches are merging and if control of the legislative branch remains with the Republicans then the final checks on the corruption and cruelty of the tyrants will be gone. I urge all young readers to either fight the oppression or seriously consider moving from the USA.)

(Update 2017 – There is now more reason than ever to leave the USA. I would encourage all my readers with the means to consider this carefully, subject to the caveats below. And if the Mueller investigation is undermined or ignored, as I’m assuming it will, then the rule of law will have been undermined. And that would be the real canary in the coal mine.)

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There are many considerations here: one’s age, occupation, income, family status, foreign language abilities, potential destination, etc. Clearly moving to Central Africa would be unwise but what about moving to a country notably better than the US in terms of happiness? One could consult the UN’s World Happiness Report where the US was ranked #17 and move to a happier country like Denmark, Norway, or Sweden. Or one might move to one of the most democratic countries as rated by the Democracy Index. (For more see my best countries list.)

But it isn’t that simple. If one didn’t speak the language of the destination country then one would be isolated after moving there. So for our purposes let’s consider English-speaking developed countries, the kind that a US citizen would most likely consider like Canada, England, Ireland, Australia, or New Zealand. Suppose, for example, that you were a young married couple with a newborn considering such a move and you could get a job transfer to one of these countries. Would it be wise to do so?

In some respects, it obviously would. The chances your child would be the victim of sexual assault, gun violence, or incarceration would drop dramatically. If you were concerned about economic equality or a strong social safety net, all of the above countries would be more aligned with your values than in the USA’s “winner-take-all” society. Still, suppose you had to leave an extended family in the move? Would it be worth it then?

Consider this thought experiment. Suppose you lived in one of the worst countries in the world surrounded by a loving family. Now suppose you had the chance to move to Denmark, the world’s happiest country in the 2014 survey, where you had a good job waiting. Suppose also that you spoke Danish fluently. In that case, moving to Denmark is an obvious choice, and your loved ones would likely encourage you to move.

Now suppose you had the choice of staying in a country with your loved ones or moving to a country you thought was a bit better to live in, but to which your extended family could not move. In that case, most would probably stay put. The benefits of family support would probably outweigh moving to a slightly better country. Of course, this might depend on how often you could see your extended family, how much they help, etc. If you could see them often and they provide crucial support, it makes less sense to move than if the opposite is the case.

Still any calculations on such matters depend on whether you are single, married, married with children, etc. For example, if one has no family, then the choice is straightforward— go to the best place that satisfies your other criteria. But if one is married with children and relies on family support, then obviously dthat must be considered in the equation.

Yet all of this depends too on your best estimate of a country’s future. In the case of the USA, increasing social corruption and political dysfunction (primarily of the Republican party) make the future seem bleak to me but, on the other hand, it is nearly impossible to predict future trends. In the end, we make life’s decisions with imperfect information; that is the state of the world that we must accept. And all advice is imperfect too.

With that caveat in mind, I would advise all young people (and others as well) to seriously consider emigrating from the US if they have the chance, especially if all or some of their loved ones could accompany them. After observing trends over the last 50 years, I believe America will increasingly become a worse place to live, except (possibly) for the very wealthy. But even they suffer from living in a country with high levels of violence, social instability caused by wealth inequality, the hatred of the US by others around the world, our denigration of science and other expertise, and our increasingly lax environmental regulations which put us all at risk. To have a better life, seriously consider moving.

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Note – This essay originally appeared on this blog in January 2014.

Writing About Timeless Themes

[image error]“Hegel and Napoleon in Jena” (illustration from Harper’s Magazine, 1895)

Lately, I have felt conflicted as I start to write a post. Should I write about timeless topics like the meaning of life and death, cosmic evolution, truth, beauty, goodness, justice, love, etc. or should I pen a short essay about current events, especially political ones?

The appeal of timeless topics to a philosopher is obvious. They drew me to philosophy many years ago and, long after whatever is happening now is over and likely forgotten, the timeless topics endure. They are substantive and largely permanent. Yet thinking about such topics can seem superfluous given the anxiety and suffering that abound. To think and write about them brings the phrase “ivory tower” readily to mind.

On the other hand, current political events seem so urgent, especially when the social fabric, the social stability on which we all depend is fracturing. We don’t worry that such concerns are irrelevant. Yet isn’t the role of the philosopher is precisely to go beyond the questions of the moment, to see things in a larger and hopefully a more meaningful context?

Notice though that philosophy, like all of high culture, depends largely on political stability. That is why Aristotle thought that politics was the master science; it is indispensable to having a good society. As he says in the very first sentences of his Politics (Oxford World’s Classics)[image error],

Every state is a community of some kind, and every community is established with a view to some good; for mankind always act in order to obtain that which they think good. But, if all communities aim at some good, the state or political community, which is the highest of all, and which embraces all the rest, aims at good in a greater degree than any other, and at the highest good.

So perhaps my concerns with immediate political concerns aren’t misplaced, as long as one tries to bring to them the analysis and reflection of a philosopher. But we can also drown in the fever of the moment, blinding us to the larger movement of deep time, a perspective from which our concerns appear trivial. (I don’t think this was ever captured more profoundly than in Carl Sagan’s brief video “The Pale Blue Dot.”)

So, for the most part, I’ll continue to closely study both the timely and the timeless. I’ll also remember philosophers who wrote great works amidst troubling times. After all, Hegel was putting the finishing touches to it, The Phenomenology of Spirit, as Napoleon engaged Prussian troops on 14 October 1806 in the Battle of Jena on a plateau outside the city.

 

The Black and White Brothers—Warnock and Ossoff

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By Andris Hecks

When I heard the two Georgian Democratic candidates for the Senate in the Georgian run-off Senate election, the Reverend Raphael Warnock, the eleventh of twelve children from a poor Afro-American family and Jon Ossoff, a white documentary maker from a refugee Jewish mother, introduce each other at Biden’s election rally as ‘black and white brothers’, tears came to my eyes as I had a flashback to my experience with a very different pair of ‘black and white brothers’ in Australia a long time ago!

I felt sad about ‘la miserablès’, those ‘black and white brothers’, who so generously gave us a lift from Alice Springs to Darwin nearly fifty years ago!

But I was also bursting with great joy, that these two American, new generation black and white brothers were able, in spite of all the deprivations of their past, to rise from ‘zero to hero’, in wrestling for themselves positions of power for the good of all, in becoming Senators in the US Congress and opening the door for the Democratic Party to rise to the occasion with them!

Back to May 1973. It has been the longest wait for a ride since we had begun hitchhiking around Australia from Sydney in January. Beside me sits my drawcard car stopper: this pretty, longhaired blond, blue-eyed, slim lady. (By 2021, my wife for fifty years.)
We have been waiting at the road-sign, ‘TO DARWIN’ at this junction in Alice Springs for hours, but few cars came by and none stopped.

We are tired and frustrated and for the first time during our hitchhiking, we begin to wonder: ‘Must we now book a coach?’ Our journey ahead of us is long: all the way from Alice Springs to Darwin. We are just about to give up waiting any longer when this beaten up, old Holden appears, chugging along slowly, swaying to the left and the right sides of the road. ‘Oh no’, I sigh, ‘the driver must be drunk’!

But drunk or not, the driver flings open the door of the car when he stops beside us and invites us into the car. ‘Are you going to Darwin?’ -hesitantly I ask the bleary-eyed driver, with a flagon of grog in his hand. ‘Ye’ he answers, as I am trying to endure the smell of sweat emanating from the car.

A black hand from the back seat reaches forward towards the white driver, fingers opening and closing, signaling that it was the back seat passenger’s turn to have a swig from the flagon. I look at my hitchhike partner gingerly as if asking? ‘What shall we do? Accept the lift or decline?’ Exasperated, we climb into the car. The white, disheveled driver introduces to us, himself and his Aboriginal partner at the back, as ‘black and white brothers.’

I shall never forget this moment. This title had a major impact on my life. It etched into my memory and has kept haunting me through the nearly 50 years that have passed since this encounter… As we travel from Alice Springs to Darwin with this lovely pair of down-and-out alcoholics for the next few hours, the words ‘black and white brothers’ take on a different, albeit sad meaning for me. It now means, the broken Aborigine finding his mate in a white hobo: an alliance of ‘la miserablés’!

After arrival in Darwin, I can’t help noticing drunken Aborigines everywhere! And lots of ‘black and white brothers!’ I am flabbergasted: Is this the self-determination that we so enthusiastically dreamed of, while I was a reporter on This Day Tonight ABC TV, finishing that job just before this hitchhiking?

Now that Gough Whitlam [the 21st Prime Minister of Australia] came to power, he became the architect of the new policy of self-determination for Aborigines. A seemingly unlimited amount of cash is being thrown at the Aborigines with the motto: do anything with it, now you are free! But we whites forgot to ask the question:

Are you equipped to be free now, when we have dispossessed, neglected, injured, disintegrated, and demoralized your people for generations? Is a pile of cash handouts a substitute for acknowledging that we have robbed you of your dignity and for coming to love and respect you as people and for genuinely trying to heal the past?

Well actually, the only people who tended to socialize with the Aborigines in droves then, were the down and outs of white society. And what many despairing Aborigines who came into contact with them learned was, that the way to ease their pain was to join in with them to drink themselves to death!

I certainly found this out, when on arrival to Darwin, depressed by my experience with that pair of black and white brothers, I began to pay attention to the findings of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Alcoholism in the Northern Territory in 1973, which was in session at that time. I joined the Northern Australian Aboriginal Legal Service then as a volunteer for six months.

Fast forward to now. Slowly but surely, enough new generation of Aborigines eventually has gained the education to be able to lead their people as teachers, doctors, nurses, lawyers, musicians, entrepreneurs, and politicians. And in spite of some racism, that seems to be still persisting in Australian society, we have come much closer now to the ideal of becoming truer black and white brothers and sisters. The likes of Charlie Perkins, Adam Goods, and Stan Grant, the US Civil Rights Movement, followed by the Black Lives Matter movement now, may have helped us to wake up and be counted!

So as I hear the black Rev. Rafa, a kind of re-incarnation of Martin Luther King and the white practical idealist, and Jon Ossoff declare passionately that they are ‘black and white brothers’ and that they are determined to bring love for all into politics, I can only cry with joy:

‘Yes! Maybe, in spite of the still existing shocking divisions and hatreds and perhaps because of them, particularly in the US, the time may have arrived for us all, Black and White, Brown, Yellow and for all shades of humanity, to genuinely do our best, to bring about healing and at long last, become one another’s brothers and sisters!’

Now that the Reverend and Ossoff won the two Georgian Senate seats and broke the Republican gridlock over Biden in the Senate, it may be time for the Democrats, the Republicans, the whole US, and the world, to step up and to support these two remarkable Georgian Senators to ensure that love is confirmed as the lasting foundation for politics.

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Andris Hecks is a former journalist, working on ‘This Day Tonight’ and ‘Four Corners’ — ABC television’s top rating current affairs programs. He welcomes feedback and comments on his opinion pieces published at Starts at 60. He lives in Australia.