Scientific Curiosity, Technological Control

Science and technology often seem to go hand-in-hand do they not? In careless or offhand speech, they are often spoken as synonyms for one another. That may be the case, yet the raison d’etre for each would seem to be different.

Let me begin then by defining the stimulus of each for this blog. These definitions are, admittedly, simplistic and do not cover the full gamut of the two disciplines.

Science can be said to be seeking to understand the way in which the world works. Technology, on the other hand, can be thought of as seeking to shape (or manipulate) the world to the way in which we (humans) want it to work. The rest of this blog will be based upon this rudimentary difference.

That we want to shape the world according to how we want it to be is a highly dangerous vision. Certainly, it can be claimed, and is frequently asserted, technology has provided us with many benefits and comforts that we would not have had. Yet, our technological innovations and our techno-thinking have also brought us many threats and dangers to our lives and the lives of millions of other creatures that inhabit this planet with us. Today, we are living at a time when our technology threatens the very existence of life itself via the Sixth Mass Extinction.

There have been many who have alerted us to this danger over the years. The most famous is the 18^th century weaver, Ned Ludd, who gave his name (Luddites) to those who seek to alert us to the dangers of technology.

The most pressing danger is not so much how we use technology, but more; that technology is so ingrained in our cultures, that we are now living technology. This is the assertion that the eco-psychologist, Chellis Glendinning, makes in her incisive critiques of technology and western civilisation.

Glendinning’s 1994 book – My Name Is Chellis & I’m In Recovery from Western Civilization¹ – is an penetrating critique of our techno-addiction. Glendinning catalogues the many ills that technology has brought to the world – trauma, psychic numbing, constriction of feeling, powerlessness, arrested psycho-social development, narcissism, and thinking disorders amongst them.

When we honestly look around us, and peer into our own psyches, we can verify the veracity of Glendinning’s claims. Consider this for one moment. What happens to our anxiety levels when: the car won’t start, the lights go out, the mobile phone network is down, we can’t access the internet?

Furthermore, what happens to the anxiety levels of a whole society when: an oil tanker spills millions of litres of oil into the ocean, when a nuclear reactor begins to melt down and/or leak radioactive gases, when insecticides poison the local water supply, when a mining company destroys a sacred site?

This is trauma.²

An Axe in the Hand of a Pathological Criminal

The most incisive and damning critique of technological progress comes from one of the world’s foremost scientists – Albert Einstein.

In December 1917 Einstein wrote to his friend, Heinrich Zangger (Professor of forensic medicine at Zurich University) that:

“All of our exalted technological progress, civilization for that matter, is comparable to an axe in the hand of a pathological criminal.”³

Yet even Einstein, with this insight, was unable to escape the consequences of the technological use of his scientific discoveries. It was his famous equation that set the foundation for the development of the most terrifying technology the world has yet seen – the atomic bomb.

Expanding upon Einstein’s metaphor we can recognise that more and more axes are being produced, and most of us are swinging them.

Sadly, large swathes of society seem to delight in becoming more adept at the use of the axe. Nevertheless, no matter how proficient we become in new technologies, it remains that the axes are destroying our lives and the planet.

Yet, we fail to recognise this. Failing to recognise the harm of technology, we deny the harm. And that, says Glendinning and others, is a hallmark of addiction.

A Return to Science?

This blog began with a distinction between science and technology. The rapid development of technology over the past couple of centuries has widened the distinction that was made at the beginning of this piece.

Today it is more difficult for us to pursue a curiosity about how the world works, because our technology has so shaped, controlled, and manipulated the world that the world no longer works naturally.

What is left to be curious about?

Notes:

1. Glendinning, Chellis, My Name Is Chellis & I’m in Recovery from Western Civilization, Shambhala Publications, Boston, Massachusetts, 1994.

2. Ibid. p 82. Glendinning refers to the Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders where trauma is defined as: ‘an event that is outside the range of usual human experience and that would be markedly distressing to almost anyone.’

3. Zangger himself went on to write (in 1924) the book Poisoning, the first book to point out the dangers of poisoning arising from technological development.

Silent Listening

A few years ago, someone pointed out to me that the word LISTEN is an anagram of the word SILENT. That’s pretty cool I thought. Cool, maybe, yet the connection between the two words is significant.

Whether listening to someone else, listening to ourselves, or listening to nature; the role of silence is critical. Indeed, it could be argued that the ability to be silent is the most basic skill required to truly listen.

Listening to Others

Listening to other people is perhaps the first thing that comes to mind when we hear (or read) the word listen. And, not without cause. We spend a lot of time in communication with other people; whether sitting in a café chatting over a coffee, spending time in intimate conversation with significant others, or in a formal (or informal) setting with a group of people.

If you were a ‘fly-on-the-wall’ and able to listen-in to these conversations you would probably notice that there is not a lot of quiet time, not much silence.

Yet, silence could bring a greatly enhanced meaning to conversations. Silence can allow for a more abundant depth of listening than can a spoken response. This is especially true of conversations involving significant emotional content (such as: grief, turmoil, ecstasy, wonder, pain and loss, depression, or love and excitement.)

Silence is recognised as a core skill in the art of active/creative listening. It is a crucial part of healing circles, or indeed, any groupwork circle. Within such circles the sharing is often deep, emotionally imbued, and sometimes uttered from a place of vulnerability. Silence following such sharing does two things: First, it indicates to the sharer (speaker) that they have been heard, and that what they shared is acknowledged within the silent space that follows. Second, it allows those of us who have been privileged to listen to drop into a silent space to reflect upon what has been said and discover our common humanity.

Listening to Nature

Richard Louv¹ coined the term Nature Deficit Disorder in 2005 to recognise the growing awareness that our disconnection from nature had serious implications, not only for our environment, but also for our own selves.

The writer, Hermann Hesse, noted that, ‘Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.’

That requires silence. To go into the forest, or the bush, or any natural setting, obliges us to do so in silence. In silence it is possible to truly hear what the trees, nature, the forest, the birds, the animals, are saying. Such an encounter with nature is at the heart of the Japanese practice of shinrin yoku (literally meaning to bathe in the forest environment, to take in the forest through giving mindful attention to our senses.) One of the first researchers into the benefits of forest bathing, Yoshifumi Miyazaki, says that ‘…it is clear that our bodies still recognise nature as our home…’ ²

To reconnect with nature, to recognise our home, and gain the tremendous benefits that home (nature) provides, we must appreciate the significant role of silence.

Listening to Ourselves

How often do we truly listen to ourselves? Were we to stop and sit, and honestly listen to ourselves, we might be surprised by what we learn. The 17^th century French mathematician, physicist, and philosopher, Blaise Pascal, went further, proposing that, ‘All of humanity’s problems stem from (our) inability to sit quietly in a room alone.’

Is Pascal correct in this assertion? Perhaps if we did as he suggested, and sat in silence for awhile and listened, we might discover that he was telling a truth.

How do we listen to ourselves?

One of the most beautiful descriptions of this inner listening comes from Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr Baumann, a Ngangikurungkurr woman from northern Australia. She describes the word dadirri as:

“inner, deep listening and quiet, still awareness. Dadirri recognises the deep spring that is inside us. We call on it and it calls to us. This is the gift that Australia (and the world – ed.) is thirsting for. It is something like what you call ‘contemplation.’ When I experience dadirri, I am made whole again. I can sit on the riverbank or walk through the trees; even if someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent awareness. There is no need of words. A big part of dadirri is listening. Through the years we have listened to our stories. They are told and sung, over and over, as the seasons go by. Today we still gather around the campfires and together we hear the sacred stories.”³

What we further notice in this beautiful word picture is that all three aspects of listening (to others, to nature, and to ourselves) are woven together like a fine tapestry.

How do we do this? What techniques should we develop so that we can access that deep spring of awareness? There seems to be four barriers we must first get past:⁴

1.   Declutter your mind.  Tapping into your inner wisdom is difficult if there is a lot of clutter in the way.  You will find your own way to declutter; some ways are to go for a walk, get into nature, listen to music or meditate.  Perhaps a shower.  Have you noticed how often you’ll get a good idea in the shower?  It’s surprisingly common.  Whatever you do, you need to give your mind freedom.

2.   Ignore what you know.  Intuition deals more with feelings, insights and emotions than it does with facts and figures.  This does not mean that you reject the facts and figures, just put them aside and ask yourself how you feel about the question, issue or problem?  How is your body responding?

3.   Get out of your head.  Go with your gut.  Often we get a “gut feeling” before our brain takes over and becomes the “knower.”  Get in tune with your gut.  Do your stomach muscles contract and tighten or do they relax?  Does your heart and chest feel as if it is expanding?

4.   Let go the need to control.  Our rational mind tells us that we should be in control at all times.  However, when we wish to tap into our inner wisdom we need to surrender this desire, and trust that our intuition will provide us with insights without our need to dictate what those insights might be.

Once we get past these four barriers, then we need to simply sit and simply be silent. Not easy, admittedly, but worth the effort to become practiced with.

Since first being alerted to the anagram of SILENT and LISTEN I have come to appreciate the strong connection between the concepts of each. Silence is a crucial element in true listening, and if we wish to truly listen then we must utilise silence.

The fact that they are anagrams of each other is a reminder of this connection.

Notes:

1. Louv, Richard: Last Child in the Woods: Saving our children from nature deficit disorder, Workman Publishing Company, New York, 2005.

2. Miyazaki, Yoshifumi: Shinrin Yoku, The Japanese art of forest bathing, Timber Press, Portland, Oregon, 2018.

3. For a full description of dadirri and more information about the work of Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr Baumann go to her Foundations website – www.miriamrosefoundation.org.au Accessed 23 November 2022.

4. Adapted from, Meder, Bruce: Opportunities Emerging: Social change in a complex world, Rainbow Juice Publishing, Coffs Harbour, NSW, Australia, 2016.

Will Gaia Throw A Party?

Sometime on the afternoon of 15 November 2022 (GMT) a baby was born somewhere in the world.
That baby became the 8 billionth person upon this planet.

There are now as many people alive upon the Earth as the total cumulative number of humans to have ever lived during the first 150,000 years of human (Homo sapiens) existence.

It took virtually all the time we have existed upon this planet to reach the first one billion living human beings. We did so in 1804 – slightly over 200 years ago.

We then rapidly populated the Earth, adding the next six billion to reach seven billion around late 2011-early 2012.

Then, in a little more than a decade we added one billion people. One decade! It had taken us most of 200,000 years to reach our first one billion.

Do you think Gaia¹ will throw a party to celebrate?

Let’s look at some of the things we humans did on that day (the day on which the 8 billionth human arrived) to acknowledge the birth. Note: these figures are just one days worth.

• Almost 250 million tons of resources were extracted from the Earth.

• 5.8 million tons of waste was dumped.

• 118 million tons of CO₂ was emitted.

• Slightly less than one million tons of meat was consumed…

• Requiring 15 million tons of water to produce that meat.

• Almost 80,000 ha (800 sq. km) of forest was cut down (roughly the area of Barcelona, Spain, and more than the area of Beijing, China.)

• Almost 14 billion plastic bags were produced, and less than 1% were recycled.

• 137,000 tons of e-waste was thrown away.

• 1.1  million tons of hazardous waste was produced.

• 1,200 people were murdered by another person, with 650 of those killed with a gun.

Somehow, I don’t think Gaia is going to invite us to a birthday party anytime soon.

Note:

1. Gaia is the personification of the Earth in Greek mythology. Gaia is also the name James Lovelock gave to his hypothesis that the Earth acts as a superorganism and is a dynamical system regulating the biosphere and maintaining life.

7 Decades, 7 Lessons

A few days ago I transitioned from the 7^th to the 8^th decade of my life as part of this magical, majestic planet. In looking back on seven decades I thought about the lessons I learnt in each of those decades. Of course, there are hundreds of lessons one learns throughout life, but here I am identifying some of the more salient ones, or at least, ones that remain with me and resonate now.

Undertaking this review I came to realise also that some lessons come in bits, I did not get the lesson all in one dose. Indeed, some lessons spanned decades in arriving. Some were also sent many times before I “got it.”

Decade 1. I was fortunate to be born in the middle of the North Island of Aotearoa (New Zealand) amidst dozens of lakes, luxuriant bush, rivers, geysers, mud-pools, and volcanoes. I remember family picnics beside lakes or at the foot of waterfalls, and my father teaching me to swim in the cool lake waters. I remember playing in bushland, or amongst haystacks with our golden spaniel – Lyn. I walked through luxuriant bushland or along country lanes, with my mother always leading my curiosity, with questions such as, ‘I wonder what’s up there?’

The decade was one of wonder, joy, delight, and exploration.

Lesson 1. The world is a beautiful, wondrous place…

Decade 2. …except when it isn’t. During my second decade (in my teenage years) I heard about or saw the cruel side of the world. I heard about the killing of Soweto school children by South African apartheid forces. The My Lai massacre in Vietnam was reported on TV. I saw the famous photo of nine-year old Phan Thi Kim Phuc fleeing, naked, from the napalm bombing of her village in Vietnam. Towards the end of my second decade I watched TV reports of the shooting of four students protesting that same war at Kent State University.

Lesson 2. The world contains cruelty, injustice, and oppression.

Decade 3. University days brought a new freedom. That time was my first exploration of the world outside of family and school boundaries. Yes, there were the academic subjects to learn. Non-academic experiences included participating in student debates, listening to some of the country’s foremost poets at a local pub, attending rock concerts, and taking part in all-night parties.

During this decade I was introduced to political and social thought and action. The world’s first environmentally-based political party (NZ Values Party) was formed, and I joined. In the second half of the decade I was recruited to be part of a four-year long non-formal, community-based, education group dedicated to learning about community, self, and the relationships between each.

Lesson 3. I have a voice, both an inner voice (my emerging consciousness) and an outward voice (my environmental and social advocacy.)

Decade 4. My fourth decade found me experiencing unemployment for the first time. Eventually I gained employment in both community development and community education roles. I honed my skills as a facilitator and decided I wanted to learn more about facilitation, group dynamics, and cooperative ways of learning and campaigning.

Lesson 4. I have a calling: to bring people together for fun and/or learning purposes.

Decade 5. Stress at work led me to re-explore the practices of Zen that had first attracted me in my third decade. The Zen meditation techniques steered me towards a desire to find out more about the philosophy, psychology, and practices of Buddhism. About the same time, I came across Chaos Theory, Systems Thinking, and the concept of Emergence. All these concepts, ideas, and practices were mutually supportive.

Lesson 5. Phenomena are intricately, and exquisitely, inter-connected and are mutually sustaining.

Decade 6. My sixth decade straddled the early years of the new millennium and brought with it death and dying. During the decade my mother died (telling me a week or so before she died, ‘I am ready.’) At the end of the decade I lived through two large earthquakes in Christchurch, the second of which killed 185 people, three of them friends of mine. During one 13-month period during the decade eleven friends died. I had to come to terms not only with their deaths, but also the possibility of my own. Buddhism helped enormously.

Lesson 6. Impermanence is a fact of life (and death.) Nothing exists forever. All things must pass.

Decade 7. A shift to Australia brought me into contact with greater numbers of people exploring Buddhist philosophy and concepts such as Deep Ecology, eco-spirituality, and soul-centric psychology. This all challenged (in engaging and exciting ways) my understanding of selfhood and the human journey of development.

Lesson 7. Let it go. Understand intellectually, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, and somatically the meaning of: ‘Grant me the courage to change the things I can, the serenity to accept the things I cannot, and the wisdom to know the difference.’ Furthermore, the lesson that acceptance does not mean indifference.

I wonder what lessons I shall be presented with during my eighth decade? Whatever they may be, the lessons of the past seven decades have equipped me with the curiosity and wonder as to what they may be.

At whatever decade of your life that you are in, dear reader, I wonder what the prime lessons of each decade have been for you? 

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

We use the saying, ‘Caught between a rock and a hard place,’ to indicate a difficult situation, often one in which we are faced with two possibilities, neither of which is desirable.

We have been faced with such uncomfortable choices for millennia it seems, as the saying comes from Homer’s epic poem The Odyssey, composed around the 8^th or 7^th century BCE. At one stage during his travels Odysseus must pass between a fearsome cliff (rock)-dwelling man-eating monster and a treacherous whirlpool (hard place.)

Now, twenty-seven or twenty-eight centuries after Homer was writing, we might need to rephrase the saying. It is becoming apparent that humanity is going to be caught between the sea and a hot place.

The Sea

Most of us are aware of the danger of sea-level rise over the near-term. Currently some 270 million people live on land that is less than 2m above sea level. By 2100 that number is expected to exceed 400 million. Although, by then, most of those 400 million will have had to move because of sea-level rise. The NASA Earth Observatory predicts a rise of between 0.6m – 1.1m by the end of the 21^st century.

Of the top 20 cities (by population) at risk of severe sea-level impact, 15 of them are in Asian countries. One of those nations, Indonesia, is already taking steps to shift its coastal capital of Jakarta (with the dubious distinction of being labelled the ‘fastest sinking city in the world’) to a new site – some 2,000 km NE of Jakarta to Nusantara in Borneo, where the location is hillier than the alluvial plain on which Jakarta sits.

Another country at severe risk of sea-level rise is the Maldives in the Indian Ocean. The flattest country on Earth, the country has an average elevation of just 1m above sea level. A sea-level rise of just 45cm would see the nation lose 77% of its land area.

Sea-level rise is one half of the dire situation.

The Hot Place

Two years ago a group of scientists from China, USA, UK, Denmark, the Netherlands, and Uruguay published a paper in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS) journal calling attention to a vastly increased land area that would be too hot for human inhabitation by 2070.¹

Presently humans live in a climatic envelope where the Mean Average Temperature (MAT) is around 11^o C to 15^o C with a small number living in a MAT of around 26^o C.

Very few, if any, humans live in an area with a MAT of 29^o C or greater. This is hardly significant at present as only 0.8% of the Earth’s land surface experiences such conditions, concentrated mostly in the Sahara.

However, according to this research, by 2070 the area experiencing a MAT of 29^o C or greater is projected to be 19% of the Earth’s surface. That is twenty-four times as much land area as now! That is massive!

Most at risk will be nations in central Africa, parts of the Indian sub-continent, SE Asia. Northern areas of Australia, and much of the Amazon basin.

How many people will this affect? Huge numbers. Around 350 billion, or one-third of the projected global population.

The UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) estimates that currently there are 103 million forcibly displaced people in the world, a figure that has risen significantly in the past decade.²

The world has trouble coping with this number now. How will the world cope when this number is increased by a factor of 10 or more?

Notes:

1. Xu, Kohler, Lenton, Svenning, & Scheffer, Future of the Human Climate Niche, PNAS May26, 2020, Vol 117, no. 21

2. Refugee Data Finder on UNHCR website accessed 2 November 2022.