How Humans Create A Complex Range of Meaning From Absolute Chaos

There is no such thing as a “mountain.” There is no such thing as a “bird.” There is no such thing as a “machine.” There is no such thing as a “city.”

As humans, all we have for making sense of the universe around us is a collection of man-made concepts. You may say “Of course there is such a thing as a mountain; I have seen a mountain, I have climbed a mountain.” You may also say “Of course there is such thing as a bird; they are everywhere.” And in some sense, you are correct. However, in a totally objective sense, you are not.

Indeed, mountains, birds, machines, and cities are readily visible in our world. The problem arises when you begin to give absolute definition to those things. Let’s consider the example of “mountains:” what exactly constitutes a mountain? When does a perturbation of Earth cease to be called a “hill” and become a “mountain?” Is there a predesignated size it must reach before it can be labeled a mountain? Must it reach a certain altitude above sea-level before being assigned the rank of “mountain?”

Of course not! For all intents and purpose, there is no strict scientific measurement of “mountainness.” It is a man-made concept for what we observe as ‘really big hills.’ Without humans here to make the distinction between a hill and a mountain, there is none. There is only a universal measurement of spatial distance, which when measured relative to Earth’s center, we call “height.”

The same goes for cities. When does a “town” sprawl enough to be called a “city?” Again, there is no clear conceptual boundary – it is inherently subjective. We may have bylaws which try to assign a population number, but again, these are superficial and man-made.

What about birds? Surely they must be easier to define. Well they are more definable than mountains, from a scientific perspective. For example, birds must meet certain biological criteria: bipedal movement, wings, feathers, eggs, vertebrae, a certain hip structure, etc. If an animal does not meet these specifications, it cannot be called a “bird.” The problem with this particular concept is that there are such a multitude of creatures on Earth that fit this description that that to conceptualize them all under one umbrella seems wrong. Thus the concept does not describe any one thing, it describes an idea. Consider the Kiwi, the famous flightless bird from New Zealand. It’s feathers are more like fur, and it’s wings are so small that they are invisible. It is a very different creature from the “birds” we are used to in North America such as crows and ducks. A Kiwi is about as similar to a duck as humans are to squirrels. Why don’t we subsume humans and squirrels into the same animal group?

Well actually, we do. We call ourselves mammals – a group with it’s own set of criteria. My point here is NOT that such concepts are not useful – indeed, they are our only way of making sense of the immense complexity of life around us – my point is that these concepts, while productive, do not describe actual things in the real world.  

Follow this logic through, and you come to a weird and scary conclusion. For all the man-made concepts that have evolved throughout the history of human language, what we are actually experience in the sensory universe is still not being described truthfully. According to the basic tenets of science, at the end of the day, all that we truly experience as human beings is a chaotic interaction of energy and elementary particles. They may take the form of a computer screen, keyboard and mouse, but they are all ultimately composed of the basic building blocks of the universe. But… you don’t see it that way.

This is where the necessity of conceptual labels becomes obvious; the human mind is not able to experience the world as a neutral observer of physical chaos. We instinctually organize the world around so that we can extract meaning from it. Even concepts fundamental to our being such as “self,” “universe” and “time” are man-made. Who’s to say whether they refer to any objective truth or not? It’s just impossible to know.

Working from birth, people build their conceptual universes, and they eventually become them. Your concept of “love” will never be the same as mine, and my concept of “God” will never be the same as yours. We may agree on what constitutes a bird, but this agreement is contrived;  the concept of  a “bird” itself is ultimately superficial. Herein lies ultimate human dilemma: to struggle to agree upon the workings of a universe, when each of us has constructed that universe with our own variations upon thousands of man-made concepts. We are each programmed to bo so drastically different, that it boggles the mind that we are able to meaningfully interact at all. 

Thus, to argue with others about the existence of God, or a belief in love, is silly. You’re not dealing with the same concepts, and you’re not talking about the same things. Thus, the conversation is pointless.

I suppose I’ve just dabbled in some branch of existential philosophy. Who knows. I don’t care for labels. I find it difficult to breakdown the concept of a concept without referring to… other concepts! Perhaps it’s a vain pursuit. Yet I think each of you knows what I mean… but in your own way, of course.

Life and Death: Lessons From Nature

I suppose that human beings measure everything relative to themselves. It’s probably a natural tendency. After all, how else are we to make sense of the world? We can only make sense of the things around us by internalizing them, and knowing them in relation to ourselves. Everything around us is personified. We see through human eyes, and that will never change.

Yes, I am a human being, and will thus always be bound to a narrow anthropocentric understanding of the things around me. I accept that. But every so often I catch a fleeting glimpse of how transcendentally beautiful things could be, if percieved otherwise. Many people experience this through God; I experience it through nature. Whatever this experience is, I’m sure everyone goes through it at some point.

Life is tough sometimes, and there’s never an easy answer. Oddly enough, I take comfort in my own insignificance. Religion teaches the opposite; that the human being is the center of all things, the image of creation itself, separated from nature by divine right. But it doesn’t matter what you believe; one thing that cannot be denied is that every human being feels emotions. Whether these emotions are designed by God, or evolved instinctual responses; it makes no difference. We are all, for better or worse, pre-programmed to experience the world emotionally.

I wonder; would it be better to experience the world with an utterly rational mind, free of all emotion? What then do we make of death? Of course, death is a natural occurrence, even if unexpected. Rationally, one will conclude that the experience of death is exactly like the experience of not being born yet. It’s a nothingness so complete as to be impossible to understand while living, no matter how hard one tries to imagine it. Thus, it is impossible for a human being, rational though he or she may be, to understand death. For this reason, it is one of the only things in this world that we cannot measure relative to ourselves. Even God himself is understood by measurement to ourselves. After all, what is God if not Man? I suppose that is why death is so often explained through God.

We look at the entire natural world as being nothing more than a provision for our existence, and again, everything is measured up to us. Insects are small. Whales are big. Slugs are slow. Donkeys are stupid. Bacteria are invisible. The only thing we can know about these creatures is how they differ from us. Perhaps that is why we continue to insist that we are different from them. Rarely do we perceive nature for what she truly is. But every so often, we get a fleeting glimpse:

For all the life that will come and go on this Earth, there will be death. This should not detract from the beauty that we find while we are here; instead we should absorb what is around us and accept that we are all just small parts of one great living thing, and that thing can only live on because of death.

The Concept of… (Part 1: “Life”)

Life.

What is life exactly? Humans are alive, and so are trees. What do trees and people have in common that allows them to be subsumed into the category of life? Trees don’t walk or think. They just stand there.

The reasons, of course, are internal. Trees are what we call “organic” – that is made of cells, and having the ability to grow. This is what fundamentally unifies all known life on Earth.

One of the interesting things about “life” is that most of it is very small. The smallest living thing ever discovered is called Nanoarchaeum, and it is only 400 nanometers (billionths of a meter) in diameter. Here is photograph of the creature:

In fact, scientists debate whether or not the thing can actually be called living. At this level of microscopy, the conceptual distinctions between living and non-living become too vague – a telling reminder of how poorly constructed our concept of “life” truly is. Indeed, no line has yet to be conclusively drawn between that which is alive and that which is not. It’s a bizarre fact of science, that a concept so fundamental to our nature as “life” is, as of yet, undefinable.

There is, however, one thing that distinguishes life, and this is it’s unusual relationship with energy.

All matter and movement in the universe is predicated by the laws of thermodynamics. The second of those laws states that matter in a closed system cannot increase in entropy without an outside energy source. In other words, the level of chaotic kinetic energy in a closed system will remain in equilibrium unless acted upon. Life is unique, in this respect, as it seems ostensibly to violate this, the second of Newton’s laws. Of course, this is because “living things” tend to increase in entropy, rather than remain stable, or indeed, decrease.

The reason for this is that Earth is not a closed system; it recieves it’s energy from the Sun. Thus, the whole notion of “life” is built around the complex relationships between matter and energy that is created by the Earth and Sun. Really, it’s not that far-out of an idea; after all, there is clearly fundamental correlation between solar activity and this phenomenon that we have called “life.” Where does sunlight stop being cosmic rays and start being “nutrition” to some living thing? Living matter is no different than all other matter, except it needs to absorb energy, in order to increase it’s entropy. From photosynthesis to sunday dinner, you prove it every time you lift the fork to your mouth.

“Life” would be better defined as a universal cosmic tendency towards increased entropy (and thus, increased complexity of the physical organization of matter).

In light of this realization, one can conclude that the question of “life on other planets” is often addressed incorrectly: as if life on other planets would be anything like life on Earth. I doubt very much that we have the imaginative faculties necessary to fathom what strange patterns between matter and energy occur on other worlds – worlds whose particular solar circumstances are drastically different than our own. I believe that there are, floating out in the depths of space, depths of consciousness beyond the narrow constructions of the Earthbound Ape, and beyond our limited concept of “life.”

Revelation: Celebration In Mass Society, And What We Can Learn From It

I went to the PNE last night. I got thinking about a few things while I was there.

I’ve always thought that it’s very unnatural for a human being to be completely surrounded by that many people at one time. The brain becomes overwhelmed with sensory input as it frantically scrambles to scan all immediate utterances, eye-movements and facial signals, as well as process all the flashing lights, whizzing contraptions and various smells. I believe it creates a permeating sense of tension that we all feel when we find ourselves in large crowds. But I also believe we can learn a lot about ourselves from such crowds.

From a humanist perspective, it’s quite a social achievement to have such large conglomerations of people, young and old alike together in celebration, with relatively few disruptions. Considering that the PNE provides their adult guests access to alcohol and gambling, it’s even more astonishing. I think our society’s ability to foster PNE-esque celebrations attests to our society’s relative peace, stability and, ironically, it’s calmness.

But that’s just one story the PNE has to tell. Spend enough time just observing what goes on around you at a place like the PNE, and one can learn a lot about the fundamental values of our society. For example, there was a children’s parade at about 10:30. Everything in the parade could have been somehow construed as a reflection on our society in a broader sense. All you have to do is think about what you are seeing, instead of just seeing it.

The first thing in the parade was two armed police officers on flashing motorcycles. They were wearing body armour and uniforms, and they were carrying various weapons for subduing anybody who might pose a threat to the crowd, and though you may not like having your children see weapons, and violence is ‘never the answer,’ the truth is that without a certain degree of fear, control and oppressive authority in our society, the ensuing parade would not have been possible.

The procession of floats were nearly all products of the mass media; that is, none of the cartoon characters depicted were part of any local folklore or mythology. Instead you get the Flintstones, Woody Woodpecker and Ronald McDonald – the mythological characters of the industrial/consumer age – relics of the great American mass media. As each float rolls by, children are given yet another dose of acceptance – another reminder of the normalness of it all – and with each passing float they place a little more trust in the traditions of the consmer society.

Between inflatable cartoon floats there are dance troupes of young girls. The parade tends to go from youngest to oldest, beginning with the 8-10 year olds, in their frilly pink princess costumes, endearing themselves to the entire audience with their adorable innocence and nervous smiles. As the parade marches on, and as the age of the girls gets higher, one notices a change: the costumes are made of less fabric, the make-up is applied more heavily, the dances become more elaborate and the smiles appear more… forced. One gets the impressiont that these are the rites and rituals of womanhood in our society. You may think that I’m reading too much into this, but put yourself in the place of a 7 year old girl, for whom the parade is essentially part of an introduction to the traditions, celebrations and rituals of her world.

At the end of the day, we can conclude that we are celebrating nothing. But that’s fine, because we are humans, and we don’t need anything to celebrate. At the end of the day, we just like eating sugary foods, watching cars fight each other in a ring, subjecting our bodies to unnatural sensations of acceleration and gravity, entrancing our eyes with flashing colours, and submitting ourselves to the kind of reckless abandon that typifies our society. The only tough choices we make are whether we like pink cotton candy, or blue.

I guess the important thing is that we just think about how lucky we are to get to live in a place that is capable of hosting a PNE style celebration, because there are many places on Earth that certainly could not. Oddly enough, our society’s ability to party is probably only made possible by the fact that people in uniforms somewhere got trained how to fire a  gun, and I think it’s important we remember that too.

And In The End…

There was once a band, whose members comprised four young lads from a relatively poor city called Liverpool. This band would eventually instill itself as the quintessential rock band, earning a place in history as the founders of an entire age of enterprise that is now called “popular music.” They wrote many songs that are deeply entrenched into the social and cultural conscience, and their ability to win legions of fans in every new generation attests to their staggering ability as musicians, artists and revolutionaries. The band, for all their incredible accomplishments and enormous acclaim, was humbly named: “The Beatles.”

Anyone who knows Andrew Muir knows that he has a deep fascination with The Beatles. Above all, this is for one reason: their message is the best message I’ve ever heard.

The Beatles never wrote an angry song. Every single piece of art they produced was about love. In the early days, it was more obvious … Love Me Do, P.S. I Love You, She Loves You, Can’t Buy Me Love, Words Of Love, And I Love Her, All My Loving … and even in the later days, the message was the same, though expressed less directly.

It’s hard for me, not only to think of another band that had this kind of message, but to think of ANYTHING else, throughout ALL of mankinds illustrious history, that has ever had such a great message. All you need is love.

There are so many ways of viewing the world, and many people end up espousing hatred in the hearts of other people, even if they don’t know it, or don’t mean it. I believe it’s extremely important, in life, to do all you can to make sure you are only a force for good in people’s lives, no matter who they are, or how well you know them. You don’t have to be a saint: if more people in the world just thought a little less about themselves, and a little more about other people, the world would be a much better place.

At the very end of their career, The Beatles produced one last album called “Abbey Road,” and the last song on the album is called “The End.” The very last line in the very last song of the very last Beatles album is this:

“And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make.”

Clearly, this line was written as a concluding thought to their entire canon of lyrical content. And how beautiful and simplistic is their message … they’re even capable of pulling off their message with a certain kind of mathematical simplicity. It makes me realize what John Lennon was saying all along. Something like “No bibles, bosses or lawmakers will tell me I’m a bad person. I have love.” Well I hear that, John & Paul!

Muir’s Five-Question Evolution Test

Retardedly, one of the important issues of the upcoming American election will be evolution. A few months ago, several presidential candidates were asked if they believed in evolution, and several said “no.” One wonders if these politicians truly deny evolution, or if they are just doing it to add the evangelicals to their roster of potential votes. I believe the latter.

I’ve discussed evolution on this blog several times before, and I’m sure many people have become bored/frustrated with the topic. However, this entry will be slightly different. It is a list of questions to ask yourself; questions about your own observations regarding the natural world. There are many people who say that they do not believe in evolution, and to those people in particular, I invite you to answer the following questions, and remember to consider your answer to each question when contemplating the validity of evolutionary theory. As you will notice, the questions have aboslutely nothing to do with religion and spirituality, because I don’t see how they should be related. Indeed, the following questions are not about science either. They are very simple questions, about what you notice about the world around you.

1) Do you believe that there are many different kinds of animals?

In other words, do you recognize the existence of ‘species?’ Of course, there isn’t a human being alive who would deny that there are many different kidns of animals on this Earth, and they vary greatly. One need only observe the world around them to determine the answer to this question.

2) Do you believe that certain kinds of animals are related in some sense?

Do you believe that a crow and a raven share certain similarities? Do you believe that, though there may be different kinds of ants in the world, they all fall into one category that we call ‘ants?’ In other words, do you believe that, despite variation, different kinds of animals seem to be somehow related to each other? For example, you can have two completely distinct species of frogs, but they are both still ‘frogs’ somehow. The very fact that you recognize ‘families’ within the animal kingdom means you would probably answer “yes” to this question. I don’t think I know anybody who could logically deny that some animals look a lot like other animals.

3) Do you believe that children inherit physical properties from their parents?

It seems like most families that I know share similar physical properties. Hair colour, height, eye colour, muscle mass, skin colour … we’ve all heard how it works; genetics and inheritance and so on. Do you believe that? In other words, is it a coincidence that offspring are like copies of their parents? Or is there some kind of biological process that makes this work systematically? Surely, anybody reading this would concede that, certainly, living things inherit the traits of their parents through biology. Right?

4) Does the Earth’s environment change?

Do glaciers eventually melt? Do forests get too dry sometimes? Do rivers flood? Do grasslands become deserts? Does sea level change? Does temperature vary? Well, I’ve never heard anybody answer “no” to these questions. It seems quite clear that the Earth is ever changing, and that these changes can be slow or fast. After all, even in recorded history, there have been a few major changes to the Earth’s environment. So, would you answer ‘yes’ to this simple question? I don’t think it’s too much to assume that your answer is “yes.”

5) Is it possible for one individual animal to be smarter/stronger than another individual animal?

Well, I think we see this everyday. Sure, there always has to be someone who is stronger and someone who is weaker. It’s inevitable, isn’t it?There will always be some animals that are faster, and some that are slower. Indeed, there will always be some animals that have no problem surviving in their environment, while others will have to struggle to survive. In the Savanna plains, for example, there are many Cheetahs, but there is always one that is the fastest, and one that is the slowest. In other words, is it common sense to say that some animals are advantaged, and others are disadvantaged? I doubt very much that anyone would answer “no” to this question.

*     *     *

So, what are your answers? Yes for all five? Probably!

There you have it: 5 simple questions. Now, let’s say you answered “yes” for all these questions, which I’m assuming you did. Let’s put your answers together into one belief about the natural world. You have basically agreed with the following:

1) The speciation of living organisms

2) Genetic relationship between living organisms

3) Genetic inheritance of physical properties

4) Environmental change

5) Natural selection

From these five things that you have agreed with, allow me to construct a hypothetical scenario which, according to your beliefs, would be entirely possible:

There is a large population of bunnies living in a grassland. Some are brown, some are black and some are white. Over the course of a few hundred years, it gets colder and colder in these grasslands, because of changes in the Earth’s climate, until eventually it begins to snow all the time there. The black and brown bunnies, now much more visible to their predators, get messily devoured and eventually die off completely. Meanwhile, the white bunnies are difficult to see, so they survive and multiply into yet more white bunnies, because of genetics. Sound reasonable? Well, you seem to think so, according to your answers. What part of this scenario would not work?

And yet, many people would come across a snowy plain filled with white bunnies and say “Behold! The bunnies and the snow are a perfect match, and were thus made for each other with intent from a benevolent creator! How else could thhe bunnies fur have turned white?”

I know my example is over simplistic, but it’s the fundamental principles that I think really show how non-scientific evolutionary theory can be. In fact, it’s highly intuitive! In fact, the word ‘species’ itself demands an acceptance of evolution, because the word implies some kind of relationship reaching far back in time, doesn’t it!? As for the origins of life, well you really just need to apply the model on a smaller scale: instead of white bunnies surviving in grasslands, think about single-celled organisms surviving in psyto-plasmic goo. It’s fundamentally the same.

The most disturbing conclusion that I must come to is this: people who deny evolution only do so for two reasons.

1) People in authority have told them to deny it for their whole lives, because it contradicts their religious doctrines

… or …

2) they do not bother critically observing about the world around them.

So to the congressmen who deny evolution as part of their twisted political platform, I ask you … to which of these five questions would you have answered “no?”