Are We Then Yet?

2/3^rd of the world are anxious, and the other 2/3^rd are hopeful.

Yes, you read that correctly. It doesn’t make sense does it? It doesn’t add up?

Yet, that statement is correct in a sense. Trying to obtain clear, unambiguous, and accurate statistics on anxiety, worry, hope, and optimism in the world leads to a muddied place.

There are statistics that show levels of anxiety (depending on the country) ranging from about 4% to 9%. Yet, other research suggests anxiety levels as high as 85%, especially when it comes to anxiety about climate change. This last anxiety source (eco-anxiety) appears to be on the increase.

Eco-anxiety is defined as the chronic fear of suffering an environmental cataclysm. The word cataclysm itself conjures up alarming images. It is often associated with phenomena such as floods of Biblical proportion, or devastating events such as volcanoes and earthquakes. The flood image is particularly apt as the derivation of the word gives us a literal translation of washed down almost to the point of drowning.

Hopefulness too provides us with highly disparate conclusions. Some research indicates that young people are more hopeful than older people, yet other studies show that young people are highly concerned about the effects of climate change, whereas older generations are less so.

Even within a single population we can get confusing signals. Research from the USA notes that more than half its citizens are extremely worried about the future, whereas 1/5^th are extremely hopeful about the future.

It would seem that we could say (rather glibly) that half the world are hopeful, and the other half are worried.

Hope or anxiety? Confidence or worry? Optimism or fear?

All of these are future-oriented. Anxiety about what may befall one, or hope that what is to come will be beneficial.

The future then, seems to be muddied. We are heading towards it, and are acting like three children in the back of the car, asking of our parents, ‘Are we then yet?’ One child is excited and looking hopefully out the window expecting a glorious future. Another is worried, looking down at their feet and huddling against the door, trying to make him or herself small. Meanwhile, a third child is peering out the back window, depressed about where the family has come from.

This muddiness will not resolve itself, unless we settle the waters and live in the present moment.

Buddhism speaks of three poisons keeping us trapped. Two of these are aversion and attachment.¹ We can see these played out in our future orientation. We either attach to hope for the future, or we are averse to the future via anxiety.

Buddhism, along with many other Eastern philosophies and nature-based cultures from other parts of the world, advocate learning to live in the present moment. Present-centredness is an antidote to aversion (anxiety) and attachment (hope.)

Living in and for the future is a mistaken way of being. Not only can we not know the future, but by living in fear, or confidence, of it robs us of the present moment, in all its beauty, joy, love, and compassion.

Where are those who are living in the present? Where are the those with a grounded sense of now?

Notes:

1. The other is the delusion of the separate self.

What Noise Annoys An Oyster?

When I was a boy one of the songs I often heard on the radio (a precursor to the iPhone) was by Max Bygraves – What Noise Annoys An Oyster? It was just a humorous ditty with a catchy tune I could sing along to. The song answered its own question. ‘A noisy noise annoys an oyster most.’

What that noisy noise was is not elaborated upon in the song.

Recently, I have begun pondering the source of noisy noises. What constitutes a noisy noise? Moreover, what is the noisiest noise? There would appear to be at least two ways to answer the first of these.

A noisy noise could be the loudest noise.

Or, a noisy noise could be one that is unrelenting. One that keeps nagging away at your eardrums.

I did some research. The loudest natural sound is that of the Blue Whale, whose mating call can be as great as 188 dB (decibel) and heard from hundreds of kilometres away underwater. The loudest sound ever in recorded history is said to have been the Tunguska Meteor in Siberia in 1908. This meteor exploded some 5 – 10 km above the Earth’s surface, so leaving no impact crater, but emitted a noise of 300 dB or more. The Krakatoa eruption in 1883 produced a similar noise level and was heard 2,000 km away. Sailors within 60 km had their eardrums shattered, and thousands of people close by were killed. In comparison, an earthquake of magnitude 5 on the Richter scale can be as much as 230 dB.

All these are sudden events of relatively short duration – although I have not checked how long the mating season is for a Blue Whale.

They are also all extremely loud. A level of 85 dB is often quoted as the maximum level of toleration for a human before hearing damage is done. Normal human speech is around 55-65 dB, and a human scream can be from 80 – 120 dB. Upper safe noise levels for humans are usually set at around 75 – 80 dB.

But, what of continuous and unrelenting noise?

Unsurprisingly perhaps, the species on Earth that is the noisiest in this regard is us. We humans are incredibly noisy. Most of that noise is not from our voices, but from our technology.

Household technologies such as vacuum cleaners and dishwashers are close to the safe threshold for humans, at around 70 – 75 dB.

Other everyday technologies however are above the safe zone. Consider a few examples: Leaf blower 80 – 90 dB., lawn mower approx. 95 dB., and chainsaws around 105 dB. No wonder your ears hurt each weekend when the neighbourhood starts mowing lawns, blowing leaves around, or cutting up firewood.

Yet, even these are not our noisiest creations. A pneumatic drill for example produces 110 dB. Our city streets are extremely noisy. A car horn registers 120 dB as does the siren of an emergency vehicle. Sporting events and music concerts have levels of up to 110 dB. Go out to an airport and you’ll hear a jet aircraft take off at 130 dB.

City dwellers are beset by a continuous noise level of 60 dB or more. This constant noise level is enough to lift blood pressure and raise heart rates above normal levels. Chronic noise of this level can elevate stress levels, cause loss of concentration, and be a factor in sleep deprivation. Simply put, living in cities can be unhealthy for you.

Sadly, unhealthy noise levels are not restricted to cities.

What of the other life forms on this planet? Does the ever-present noise generated by humans have an impact?

It sure does.

Our noisy noise detrimentally affects the mating, communication, and navigation patterns of many animals. Even supposedly protected nature areas are not immune to the presence of human noise. Noise levels can be 2 – 10 times the normal background noise levels in these areas.

The effect of human noise upon animals has only recently begun being studied and analysed. However, already the damage is being witnessed. A 2019 research paper looked at data from more than 100 species (including amphibians, arthropods, birds, fish, mammals, molluscs and reptilians.)¹ The paper concluded that: ‘We found clear evidence that anthropogenic noise affects a wide range of species from a variety of different taxonomic groups.’

Disturbingly, the researchers noted that, ‘it is likely that we underestimate the effect of noise.’

The oyster in Max Bygraves’ song was correct. Noisy noises do annoy oysters – and just about every other animal (including us humans) on the planet.

Note:

1. Hansjoerg P Kunc and Rouven Schmidt. The effects of anthropogenic noise on animals: a meta-analysis, The Royal Society: Biology Letters, November 2019. https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rsbl.2019.0649 accessed 16 July 2024

Retrieving Shadows - Book Review

The Mirriam-Webster dictionary gives a definition of shadow as the dark figure cast upon a surface by a body intercepting the rays from a source of light. When we look, we can see this sort of shadow.

This is not the sort of shadow that Christina Lavers is writing about in Retrieving Shadows: A Return to the Heart.¹ The sort of shadow she is writing of cannot be seen, and most often we are not even consciously aware of.

The sort of shadow that Christina Lavers is referring to is defined by the eco-psychologist Bill Plotkin as ‘what is true about us that we don’t know – don’t know at all – and, if accused of it, would adamantly and sincerely deny.’

This is the shadow that is the subject of Lavers’ beautiful book.

Retrieving Shadows is the best introductory work on how to work with our shadows that I have read. Christina writes in an easy and compassionate style that makes this book so readable and accessible.

Given the description above, shadow work may sound mysterious, daunting, and possibly even ominous. Christina writes to lighten and assuage such fears.

All of us have much to gain from undergoing shadow work, for as Christina says, we are all ‘full spectrum people, meaning that we each contain the full spectrum of potential expression, from the most sweet, innocent, and easily lovable to the nastiest, greedy, cold, controlling, manipulative aspects.’ Some, or all, of these parts of us can, and do, get hidden away in our Shadow.

Although Christina acknowledges Carl Jung as the originator of the concept of shadow she does not get bogged down in theoretical explanations. Her book is straight forward; indeed, it almost reads as if it were common sense.

Retrieving Shadows is illustrated with words by analogies, stories (presumably from her professional practice,) and personal experience. It is also illustrated graphically with delightful, evocative drawings. These all enable the reader to become comfortable with entering the darkness where shadow resides.

Shadow work has much to offer us, both individually, and collectively. Christina notes that our social system is often both the source of our shadows as well as being the maintainer of them. ‘As children’ she writes, ‘…immersed in the dual nature of reality, we quickly learn to categorise our world into good and bad … even ourselves.’ Working with our Shadow then, must be beneficial for us individually and socially.

Christina offers a number of tools and techniques for working with shadow, and suggests that the supportive facilitation of a shadow-work practitioner may be of benefit. This caveat is well worth noting, as sometimes what arises in shadow-work can be difficult and emotionally painful.

Yet, the work is important, and offers tremendous opportunity for growth, self-awareness, and (possibly unexpected) beauty.

There are some warnings however, and Christina points these out with kindness. The most crucial warning is that of denial. ‘If we deny (the) potential within us, then we are likely to project this energy out into the world, ultimately contributing to and energising distortion at the collective shadow level.’ To me, this is a vital warning, for we may not even be aware that we are projecting a hidden part of ourselves. It can be argued that the massive and inter-connected ills of the world have been created, in large part by our individual, and collective, denial of our shadows. Christina is utterly correct to make the observation.

Three other warnings that Christina makes are: 1. To not rush or attempt to consciously direct the healing process – allow it to take the time it needs. 2. To not ‘remain continuously in the basement’ as this can act to re-traumatise us. We must, she says, ‘stay with the heart.’ 3. To not attempt to point out other people’s shadows.

Retrieving Shadows is not long (just 110 pages) making it easy to read, and re-read. The book is not just for those wanting to do inner work. It is also, perhaps even more so, for those who want to act to change the world, and for those who would wish to transcend the world. For, as mentioned earlier, Chistina declares, we are all full-spectrum beings.

If you know little or nothing of shadows or of shadow-work, then this is an excellent introduction. If you already know of shadows and shadow-work, then this is a valuable addition to your knowledge.

The last words in this review should be those of Christina. They come just 10 pages before the end, and beautifully summarise the interplay between the uncomfortable, and threatening aspects of shadow-work, and the magic and beauty the work can summon.

‘It is important to note that dark absolutely does not equate to evil. Evil is just darkness without love. The dark itself is beautiful, and like the soil out of which live grows, it holds incredible potential in its depth. The heart can hold the whole spectrum of being without judgment, and when aligned with this loving frequency and expressed with awareness of the whole, the dark becomes an integral piece of the entire picture.’

Notes:

1. Christina Lavers, Retrieving Shadows: A Return to the Heart, Christina Lavers, NSW, Australia, 2024

Small Is Beautiful: 50-year Re-reading

When I was 21 years old I read a number of thought-provoking and transformative books. One of these was Small Is Beautiful by E.F. Schumacher.¹ Published in 1973 Small Is Beautiful is one of those books that had an enormous impact on a generation that was beginning to realise the importance of environmental issues.

Now, fifty years on I have read it once more. How does this re-reading today compare with fifty years ago? What has changed? Did my initial reading really transform me? What did Schumacher have to say fifty years ago that still applies today?

As the sub-title - A study of economics as if people mattered – suggests, Schumacher was keen to examine, and possibly retrieve, economics from the morass within which it had mired itself. Indeed, is economics of any use at all was one of Schumacher’s questions:

“If (economics) cannot get beyond its vast abstractions, the national income, the rate of growth, capital/output ratio, input-output analysis, labour mobility, capital accumulation; if it cannot get beyond all this and make contact with the human realities of poverty, frustration, alienation, despair, breakdown, crime, escapism, stress, congestion, ugliness, and spiritual death, then let us scrap economics and start afresh.”

Challenging words fifty years ago. No less challenging today. Indeed, more so, if we consider the changes that have taken place over the past fifty years.

Although not primarily a book about environmental issues, Schumacher did have some apt observations to make. He noted that we are part of nature, yet in our battle with nature even if we win the battle, we will find ourselves “on the losing side.” He noted too that “nature always knows where and when to stop,” yet we (humans) continue to act as if economic growth can go on ad infinitum. Asking “what is enough?” Schumacher claimed that the economist is not in a position to reply, for the economist has no concept of enough.

Schumacher was keen to espouse ideas of appropriate technology and small, decentralised economies and technologies. In championing appropriate and small-scale technology he noted that our use of technology to solve problems often only generated more, and worse, problems. Citing a contemporary of his, Barry Commoner (an American biologist and ecologist) he noted that “the new problems are not the consequences of incidental failure but of technological success.”

Fifty years on and Schumacher’s warnings cannot be consigned to history. Indeed, many of them have come to pass.

Furthermore, things have sped up and additional harms and difficulties have come about. For example, when Schumacher was writing, the terms global warming, the greenhouse effect, and climate change had not entered our vocabulary. Nor had the basic cause of it all -overshoot. In 1973 when Schumacher was writing his book, humanity was still operating within the boundaries of one Earth. But only just! Within a year of publication our consumption, waste, and pollution activities required more than one Earth to cope. Fifty years later, at a global level, we require 1.7 Earths!! William Catton’s ground-breaking book, Overshoot, was a decade in the future.²

Had Schumacher known the full magnitude of these, would he have written a different book?

I suspect so. He would possibly have been more strident in his criticism of technology. He would probably have put greater emphasis upon our exploitation of nature and the Earth.

I doubt that he would have changed his mind about the underlying ills of the world. He said it then, he is likely to have said it today, “We are suffering from a metaphysical disease, and the cure must therefore be metaphysical.” Indeed, he may have stressed this much more, and have explored our metaphysical disease in greater depth.

Schumacher addresses our metaphysical disease not in great depth. However, what he does say about this disease is worth listening to. For example, he notes that, “The beginning of wisdom is the admission of one’s own lack of knowledge.”

Today, fifty years on, we have a lot more knowledge, yet we seem to have less wisdom. Wisdom askes the question, what should we do? Knowledge asks the question; how can we do this? without considering the possible consequences. Schumacher was correct fifty years ago, yet we have not yet acknowledged our lack of knowledge.

Perhaps the most important counsel that Schumacher can give us in reading his book fifty years on comes in the final sentences of Small Is Beautiful:

“Everywhere people ask: ‘What can I actually do?’ The answer is as simple as it is disconcerting: we can, each of us. work to put our own house in order. The guidance we need for this work cannot be found in science or technology, the value of which utterly depends on the ends they serve; but it can still be found in the traditional wisdom of (humanity.)”

Fifty years after I first read this book, I now think I understand Schumacher’s ideas with greater clarity.

Notes:

1. E.F. Schumacher, Small Is Beautiful: A Study of Economics as if People Mattered, Abacus, London, 1974. Previously published by Blond & Briggs Ltd., Great Britain, 1973

2. William R Catton, Jr., Overshoot: The Ecological Basis of Revolutionary Change, University of Illinois Press, Urbana and Chicago, 1982

Asthmatic Earth

When we (humans) breathe we inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide. Trees do exactly the opposite. Via the process of photosynthesis, trees “inhale” carbon dioxide and “exhale” oxygen. This cycle is crucial to our life on this planet.

This process often has trees and forests metaphorically characterised as the lungs of the world.

Normally, when we are healthy, our breathing is a relatively quiet activity. However, when we get sick or develop a disease of some sort, especially one that affects our lungs, we cough. Coughing is a symptom of some illness.

What if trees get sick? What if the normal process of photosynthesis becomes diseased?

Do trees also “cough”?

It seems that – metaphorically at least – they do?

A study released in November 2023 by a team of earth and planetary scientists from Pennsylvania State University reveals a disturbing trend. When trees get stressed by high temperatures and/or limited water then the process of photosynthesis gets impeded, and a reverse process commences.¹

This reverse process, known as photorespiration, means that trees no longer take up carbon dioxide; rather they begin to send CO₂ back into the atmosphere.

The lead author of the study, Max Lloyd (Assistant Research Professor of Geosciences) says that “Trees in warmer, drier climates are essentially coughing instead of breathing.”

This is a worrying condition. Continuous coughing in humans can be a sign of asthma. To stretch the analogy of trees breathing a little further we might ask: Is the Earth becoming asthmatic?

There is no known cure for human asthma. Is there one for an asthmatic Earth?

Not likely.

Plants and trees presently absorb around 25% of the carbon dioxide emitted by humans. If these “lungs” become diseased, and the world becomes “asthmatic” then the ability of trees to absorb this carbon dioxide will diminish.

Consequently, a positive feedback loop in the carbon cycle of Earth becomes established. Humans pump CO₂ into the atmosphere, trees absorb that, thus sequestering it. But now, a positive feedback loop gets launched, whereby trees no longer sequester the CO₂ – they contribute to the rising emissions. This form of “positivity” is not good for trees, it is not good for humans, it is not good for Earth.

Just as asthma sufferers worldwide find ways to cope with asthma, so will we as a species have to find ways to cope with an increasingly asthmatic world.

Notes:

1. Max K. Lloyd et al., Isotopic clumping in wood as a proxy for photorespiration in trees, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, November 2023, https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2306736120 accessed 25 June 2024.

War Is Not Healthy (Song For an Unknown Foe)

When I was a teenager and young man the Vietnam War was raging and coming to its final end. I participated in many anti-war marches and rallies. One of the most prominent posters of the time read: “War is not healthy for children and other living things.”

The etching upon which this poster was based was created by Los Angeles printmaker Lorraine Art Schneider in 1965. She donated the etching to a women’s anti-war group called Another Mother For Peace. The poster and sentiment rapidly permeated the large anti-war movement around the world.

The sentiment in this etching has remained with me ever since. Over the years I have discovered just how many ‘living things’ are encompassed by the words.

Amongst those ‘other living things’ are the soldiers themselves. Many came back from wars traumatised men. Many still do from the wars around the world today. Today we know this as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD.) During World War 1 it was known simply as shell-shock. Shell-shock could strike down men on all sides.

I tried to capture this trauma, pain, and sorrow in a poem titled Song For An Unknown Foe. It is written from the perspective of a German sniper in World War 1.

Today I shot a man I did not know

Though I shot him through the head

Straight through my heart that bullet sped

Leaving me in pain and deep sorrow.

Lying in that god forsaken muddy field

Thousands call it, name it, no-mans-land

Yet, in this confused and cratered land

Lies many a man, his guts and bones revealed.

 

And now another son I’ve taken from this earth

For ‘twas my ’pon that vile trigger

Stole from him his vitality, vim, and vigour

In this wretched war of little worth.

 

Now I hear the Generals propound

‘He did his duty, he did it well’

Yet no pride have I, no chest to swell

No honour in that duty have I found.

 

When I awake with each breaking dawn

Consider that foe whose name I know not

All those others with each practiced shot

            I’ll picture him lying in a soldier’s lawn.’

Large Language Models: Destroyers of Communication

This blog is on a topic I know little about. However, I do know three things. First, I know how to listen to my inner-tutor (my intuition) and second, I know how to listen to experts in the field. Third, and most importantly, I know how important trust is to the building and maintenance of community and global well-being.

Large Language Models (LLMs) are computational models that enable language generation and processing. Probably the most well-known expression of LLMs is ChatGPT.

When I listen to my intuition and the thoughts of experts, I grow increasingly wary of, and sceptical of, LLMs and Artificial Intelligence (AI) in general.

AI poses many threats and risks to humanity and the rest of the world. To mention just a few here: 1. The energy use by AI is doubling every 100 days, 2. Studies are now being show that LLMs are learning to lie and deceive, 3. Universities and other institutions are being challenged by the issue of plagiarism and originality of thought because of LLMs, 4. Inbuilt bias (gender, race, class, sexuality etc) occurs in the ‘harvesting of words’¹ that LLMs undertake, 5. AI undermines democracy and privacy.

I want to focus here on another issue, that of trust.

First though, we must discuss what communication is and is not. Communication is not simply the passing on of information. As with many words in the English language, communication comes to us via Latin, in this case, communicare. In Latin this word can be translated as: to share, divide out, join, unite, participate in, impart, inform.

Communicare itself derives from communis, meaning in common. Com = with, together, and unis = oneness, union.

When we understand this, we realise that communication is much, much, more than simply passing on information.

Communication is a means to commune, a way of building and maintaining relationships. Wholesome communication is a cornerstone of healthy communities.

This is what AI destroys.

Relationships are built on trust, and that is what LLMs undermine.

A study undertaken by the University of Queensland in 2023 of over 17,000 people from 17 countries showed that three out of five people were wary of trusting AI systems.²

Not trusting AI systems is one thing. Not trusting each other is another. AI does nothing to mitigate the already high levels of mistrust and polarisation in the world. It may indeed exacerbate it.

The reason for this is that LLMs are not a communication tool. They are simply an information tool. They pass on information, without regard to the veracity of the information gleaned and generated.

Let me pose a scenario, which is likely to become more prevalent in the future. Suppose I am in communication with someone and have built a relationship of trust with that person. When I read something from them I do not question that what I read is that person’s own ideas and thought.

But then, what happens if I discover that that person has begun to use ChatGPT (or other AI) to generate what they write? Will I accept that the words are indeed those of the person I am in communication with?

If all I am interested in is the information in what I read, then I will possibly be accepting of the material.

However, if my concern is more that of maintaining a relationship with that person (including the exchange of information) then knowing that the material has been generated by AI, and not by the person themselves, my trust in future interactions with that person is likely to be diminished. In other words, the communication between us is seriously undermined.

LLMs, and AI generally, is poised to damage levels of trust between people. When trust is destabilised then relationships founder, and polarisation follows.

Already, the levels of inter-personal (and inter-national) trust are decreasing, and polarisation  increasing.³ AI exacerbates this trend.

AI is destroying true communication.

Notes:

1. Harvesting of words: a term used by Tracey Spicer in a public presentation on Artificial Intelligence, 8 June 2024. Spicer is the author of Man-Made: How the bias of the past is being built into the future, Simon & Schuster, Australia, 2023.

2. Gillespie, N., Lockey, S., Curtis, C., Pool, J., & Akbari, A. Trust in Artificial Intelligence: A Global Study. The University of Queensland and KPMG Australia. 2023, doi:10.14264/00d3c94

3. For example, in the US less than 40% of people felt that ‘most people can be trusted.’ Dan Vallone et al., Two Stories of Distrust in America, More in Common, New York, 2021.