September 14, 2005

Concerning that old fictional Chinese encyclopedia

Jorge Luis Borges originally wrote this bit, claiming that "a certain Chinese encyclopedia tells us that animals are divided into:

a) belonging to the Emperor,

b) embalmed,

c) tame,

d) sucking pigs,

e) sirens,

f) fabulous,

g) stray dogs,

h) included in the present classification,

i) frenzied,

j) innumerable,

k) drawn with a very fine camelhair brush,

l) et cetera,

m) having just broken the water pitcher,

n) that from a long way off look like flies."


Probably one of the most immediate reactions to this (admittedly fictional) list is that it is completely irrational, illogical and nonsensical. However, one should be careful to call anything arbitrary, let alone irrational or illogical. Without knowing the purpose, principles, assumptions and other reasons for creating such a list, we can pass no appropriate judgements. A quick comparison with our own taxonomies sheds light on why this list may not be as arbitrary as it initally seems.


The most common classification system in Western cultures - the one based on the alphabet - is probably the most arbitrary in existence today. It is based on the sequence of phonemes in an arbitrary linguistic sign, which is compared to an arbitrarily arranged list of all such phonemes. The result is a jumble of totally unrelated concepts, much more arbitrary than what we'd get if we applied the Chinese method. Can we call this system illogical and irrational? I think not, for its purpose is ease and speed of reference, which is a very reasonable purpose.


Another example from our own society: an encyclopedia that describes, for example, plants based on their genus and species, or their apparences, or something similar, is quite a modern invention, being no more than about 300 years old. One of the most interesting type of texts I've ever read are 16th - 17th century encyclopedias that all had one lofty and rational goal: a Baconian desire to name and describe everything that pertains to any given entity. What can be more rational and logical in an encyclopedia than describing all aspects of a given thing? Isn't that what an encyclopedia is supposed to be, wouldn't such a book be in fact a paragon of Encyclopedias? And what was the result? A confusing mess of absurd information that mostly had nothing to do with anything: an amalgamation of physical descriptions, descriptions of uses, cooking recipes, seamen tales, myths, parables, anecdotes, even songs and poems. Books that had little or no practical value because it was impossible to make heads or tails out of the jumble that had been gathered in them. These books are much more arbitrary and confusing than what we'd get if we applied the Chinese taxonomy - yet the goal is both lofty and at least seemingly rational and sensible.


Such systems of thought as exemplified by the fictional Chinese encyclopedia seem illogical only as long as we fail to understand their inner structure, purpose and principles of composition. Of course the list is arbitrary to an extent, but not much more so than the ones we ourselves use. The only reason why our own taxonomies do not seem irrational and nonsensical to us is, unfortunately, just habituation.

Claims of sciences turned into world-views

"Every new economic and social revolution in history has been accompanied by a new explanation of the creation of life and the workings of nature. The new concept of nature is always the most important strand of the matrix that makes up any new social order. In each instance, the new cosmology serves to justify the rightness and inevitability of the new way human beings are organizing their world by suggesting that nature itself is organized along similar lines. [...] Our concepts of nature are utterly, unabashedly, almost embarassingly anthropocentric. The laws of nature are being re-written to conform with our latest manipulation of the natural world."

- Jeremy Rifkin, "The Biotech Century"


A few examples are in order.


The clockwork metaphor invented during the Enlightenment - that the world is a big mechanism that keeps ticking like a clock - coincided with the spree of mechanical inventions, automatons of various kinds. To this day we make use of mechanistic, or engineering vocabulary, even when they're clearly not apt.


Atomism - the idea that the only 'real' truth lies at the bottom of things, at the level of constituent elements - came to be during the advent of particle physics.


The idea that human brains are actually hardware running software, that human beings are in fact just computers, and the world is in fact just information - take a wild guess as to what technological advancement lies at the bottom of this myth.


Then there's the myth of evolution - that everything necessarily and inevitably 'evolves', which is often understood as "gets better", and that the survival of the fittest is an universal and inevitable part of everything everywhere.


And finally, the fancy contemporary myth - genetics. Everything is just genes and we are just vehicles for our genes, and everything is determined by genes, yet somehow, and rather surprisingly, we are able to control the genetic makeup of everything thorugh genetic engineering. In common parlance, "in the genes" has essentially replaced the old "in the blood".


I whole-heartedly agree with Rifkin. We as humans should really have a reality check, and get rid of the self-serving anthropocentrism that permeates our every living moment.

Objection: Perhaps humans are only adopting their worldviews to better fit with their increasing knowledge of that world.

Reply: If they did that, they would not turn every new fad into a metaphysical explanation of Life, Universe and Everything. They would realize that new evidence in a particular field has extended their understanding of that particular field, and perhaps additionally in some related fields. They would not make up things like social darwinism and behaviorism and sociobiology. The problem is that new methods or findings in a particular field are extended to where they are not apt.

Three possibilities of knowledge

We have an impulse to seek knowledge at higher and higher levels, defined by ever more general categories of things. Once we have started on this search for higher and higher categories and essences, there are three possible alternatives:


1. The world may not be systematically organized, or we may not be able to know it, above a certain level of generalization, which might even be relatively low in the hierarchy of categories. In other words, there may be a limit to the systematicity of the world or to its intelligibility.


2. The hierarchy of categories may go on indefinitely, with no level at which an all-inclusive category exists. In this case, the world might be systematic, but not completely intelligible. The process of gaining knowledge of the world would be an infinite, and hence uncompleteable, task.


3. The iteration up the hierarchy of categories and essences might terminate with an all-inclusive category, whose essence would explain the nature of all things. Only in his case would the world be totally intelligible, at least in principle.


The endlessly optimistic scientists presuppose no. 3. Why? Scientists should be skeptical and wary, yet they have chosen the least skeptical, most hopeful and idealized alternative. I see no reason to, except wishful thinking. I'm personally inclined towards alternative 2, myself.

This is not really a question about science per se but about the metaphysical assumptions underlying any search for knowledge. For there is already this presupposed all-inclusive category in metaphysics: being. The main difference between 2 and 3 is that 2 rejects 'being' as a meaningful category. 3 brings with itself a metaphysical presupposition, that there is a category of Being, and since there is also a common metaphysical theory of essences (all things have a collection of properties that makes it the kind of thing it is), it follows that Being must have an essence, so there is an Essence of Being. (2) rejects this, and this I see as the main boon of this approach.

The idea of an idea

I found this little idea when browsing Edge. The question asked from many a prominent thinker was, "What is the most important invention in the past two thousand years?" And one of the best replies in my opinion was that of George Lakoff, who replied:


"As a cognitive linguist whose job is to study conceptual systems, both conscious and unconscious, I was struck by what was meant by "invention."


• The most concrete "inventions" proposed have been gadgets, mechanical or biological — the printing press, the computer, the birth control pill.


• A step way from the concrete specific technical innovations are specific technical inventions of a mental character: Gödel's Theorem, Arabic numbers, the nongeocentric universe, the theory of evolution, the theory of computation.

• A step away from those are the general innovations of a mental character in specific domains like science and politics, e.g., the scientific method and democracy. I would like to go a step further and talk about the invention that was causally necessary for all of the above:


• The most basic fully general invention of a mental character is The Idea of an Idea.

THE IDEA OF AN IDEA

It's a bit more than 2,000, more like 2,500 years, at least in the West. It is an 'invention" in the sense that human beings actively and consciously thought it up: to my knowledge, it is not the case that every indigenous culture around the world objectifies the notion of an idea, making it a thing that can be consciously constructed.


What is required for all other human inventions is the notion that one can actively, consciously construct new ideas. We take this for granted, but it is not a "natural" development. Three-year-old children have lots of ideas and even make up new ideas. But they do not have the Idea of an Idea that they can construct anew; they do not naturally arrive at the idea that making up new ideas is something people do. The Idea of an Idea is a cultural creation that children have to learn.


It is only with the Idea of an Idea that we get conscious specific intellectual constructions like democracy, science, the number system, the computer, the birth control pill, and so on. The Idea of an Idea is the generative notion behind the very notion of an invention and is causally necessary for all specific inventions."

What is postmodernism?

I put together this collection of excerpts from a most excellent book, ‘Postmodern Theory: Critical Interrogations’ by Steven Best and Douglas Kellner, as well as other sources, with the hopes that this little essay will remove some of the myths associated with postmodernism, and will show that it is not some sort of a bogeyman, but instead a large field of philosophy and cultural theory that has asked very important questions, pointed out very important problems and offered vital new perspectives, which continue to be relevant to this day, and which inform and influence our understanding of the world and its affairs – although it has also had its fair share excesses and absurdities.


I think we should get one thing out of the way before we continue: no, contrary to a popular myth sustained by many scientists and scientifically-minded people, postmodern theories do not usually concern themselves with natural sciences. Postmodernism is a social and cultural theory, dealing mostly with the arts, literature, politics, subjectivity, and so forth. There have been some unfortunate thinkers such as Baudrillard, who utterly failed to grasp the meaning of the scientific concepts they made use of, but such blunders are to be expected in such a vast and diverse field. But to think that postmodernism ‘misunderstands’ science is to engage in the fallacy of composition.


Postmodernism in a nutshell: Postmodernism attacks the notions of monolithic universals, totalizing ideas and foundational claims characteristic of modern thinking and instead encourages diversity, plurality, fluidity and multiple perspectives. It is anti-foundationalist, anti-essentialist and has learned the criticisms of realist representational schemas*. Jean-Francois Lyotard defines postmodernism as an “incredulity toward metanarratives”, such as the unique status of the subject, the boundedness of information, and the march of progress (among other things), that had given order and meaning to Western thought during modernity, and which ignores the heterogeneity or plurality of human existence.


I’ll mostly avoid specific theoretical concerns, such as discourse theory, poststructuralist principles, and the like.

But let us first delineate the discourse of the modern, to see its differences from the postmodern.


Simply put – postmodernity is the historical period that follows modernity, just as the Renaissance was followed by modernity, as marked by specific cultural and social changes that alter the shape of human society to a greater or lesser extent. The postmodern period is said to be characterized by the commoditization of knowledge, globalization, and transnational consumerism, which replaced borders with networks, and the sale of goods with the sale of images.


Modernist thinkers describe modernism as such: it is characterized by innovation, novelty and dynamism; modernist thinkers championed reason as the source of progress in knowledge and society, as well as the privileged locus of truth and the foundation of systematic knowledge. Reason was deemed competent to discover adequate theoretical and practical norms upon which systems of thought and action could be built and society could be restructured.


Modernity entered everyday life through the dissemination of modern art, the products of consumer society, new technologies, and new modes of transportation and communication. “Modernization” came to denote those processes of individualization, secularization, industrialization, cultural differentiation, and rationalization which together have constituted the modern world.


Yet the construction of modernity produced untold suffering and misery for its victims, ranging from peasantry, proletariat, and artisans oppressed by capitalist industrialization to the exclusion of women from the public sphere, to the genocide of imperialist colonization. Modernity also produced a set of disciplinary institutions, practices, and discourses which legitimate its modes of domination and control.


Now postmodern theorists claim that the contemporary high-tech media society is producing a new form of existence, a novel sociocultural formation which requires new concepts and theories. Some theorists interpret these developments in terms of novel types of information, knowledge and technology, and others in terms of development of a higher stage of capitalism marked by a greater degree of capital penetration and homogenization across the globe.


Now, on to postmodern philosophy. In postmodern philosophy, modern theory is criticized for its search for a foundation of knowledge, for its universalizing and totalizing claims, for its hubris to supply apodictic truth.


Postmodern theory provides a critique of representation and the modern belief that theory mirrors reality, taking instead ‘perspectivist’ position that theories at best provide partial perspectives on their objects, and that all cognitive representations of the world are historically and linguistically mediated. Some postmodern theory accordingly rejects the totalizing macroperspectives on society and history favored by modern theory.


Postmodern theory also rejects modern assumptions of social coherence and notions of causality in favor of multiplicity, plurality, fragmentation, and indeterminacy. In addition, postmodern theory abandons the rational and unified subject postulated by much modern theory in favor of a socially and linguistically decentered and fragmented subject.


In politics, modernity is characterized by party, parliamentary, or trade union politics, in opposition to postmodern politics associated with locally based micropolitics that challenge a broad array of discourses and institutionalized forms of power.


Postmodern discourse in the aesthetic field celebrates the emergence of a ‘new sensibility’ in culture and the arts which challenges the rationalist need for content, meaning, and order. The new sensibility, by contrast, immerses itself in the pleasures of form and style, privileging and ‘erotics’ of art over a hermeneutics of meaning. Consequently, the new sensibility was more pluralistic and less serious and moralistic than modernism. Postmodern art is also characterized by the breakdown of the high-low distinction and the appearance of pop art and mass cultural forms, as well as a ‘closing of the gap’ between artist and audience. The new tradition rejected traditional values of Protestantism, Victorianism, rationalism and humanism. Postmodernism calls for a new criticism that abandons formalism, realism, and highbrow pretentiousness, in favor of the subjective response of the reader within a psychological, social, and historical context.


Against modernist values of seriousness, purity, and individuality, postmodern art exhibits a new insouciance, a new playfulness, and a new eclecticism.


Some depressed conservatives characterized the new emerging postmodern culture thus: they [postmodernists] reject and destroy the foundational assumptions and values of Western society, which include the loss of geographical and social unity, where the Western world could claim moral superiority and rights over ‘uncivilized’ peoples; and incredulous attitude toward progress as the trajectory and goal of history; the decline of utopian values; and skepticism toward the modernist belief in a direct correlation between liberal-humanist principles and moral conduct, a position made questionable in the 20th century by the savagery of world wars and the harmonious coexistence of high culture and concentration camps. Thus the postmodernists no longer blindly and unproblematically trust in science, art and reason as beneficent, harmonizing forces.


In a more theoretical vein, postmodernism draws from poststructuralist thought. In traditional theories of meaning, signifiers come to rest in the signified of a conscious mind. For postmodern theorists, the signified is only a moment in a never-ending process of signification, where meaning is produced not in a stable, referential relation between subject and object, but within the infinite, intertextual play of signifiers.


These new theories of language and discourse led to critiques of modern philosophy, attacking its root assumptions. It was claimed that modern philosophy was undermined by its impossible dream of attaining a foundation of knowledge, and absolute bedrock of truth that could serve as the guarantee of philosophical systems. This foundationalist assumption has been called a ‘metaphysics of presence’ that supposedly guarantees the subject an unmediated access to reality. The binary oppositions governing Western philosophy and culture (subject/object, appearance/reality, speech/writing, truth/falsity, happiness/unhappiness, and so on) work to construct a far-from-innocent hierarchy of values which attempt not only to guarantee truth, but also serve to exclude and devalue allegedly inferior terms and positions. The binary metaphysics thus works to positively position reality over appearance, speech over writing, men over women, or reason over nature, thus positioning negatively the supposedly inferior term.

In conclusion: postmodern theory stresses the importance of differences over unities and identities while championing the dissemination of meaning in opposition to its closure in totalizing, centered theories and systems, and can be characterized by a skepticism toward the simple binary oppositions predominant in Western metaphysics and humanism.


* - The idea that there is a strict differentiation between the “inside” of human mind and the “outside” of reality, and that humans have a direct, unmediated access to this outside reality. Also known as the correspondence theory of truth or the “mirror of nature” idea.

A shot at the Mary argument

Here's my shot at the old and famous Mary the Color Researcher argument, originally presented by Frank Jackson in 1982, which has since become part and parcel of analytic philosophy of mind. Most thinkers seem to reject the argument's conclusions, and Jackson himself no longer thinks his argument attained its goal (that physicalism is false). Still, as an excercise in philosophical thinking, it's quite useful. I'm sure my reply is nothing new, nevertheless, since I found the Mary argument to be utterly unconvincing, I'll present an objection that immediately came to my mind.


Here's the original thought experiment against physicality.

Mary spends her life in a black-and-white room and has no color sensations. She watches science lectures on black-and-white television and learns everything about seeing in color that can in that way be learned. This includes mastering the completed science of human color vision. If physicalism were true, she would know all the facts about color experiences, because physicalism entails that all such facts can be expressed in the colorless language of science. But, one thinks intuitively, when she ventures into the colorful outside world and has color experiences for the first time, she learns something: she learns what it's like to see in color. Therefore, Jackson concludes, physicalism is false.


So what's wrong with it? The argument is based on a rather funny understanding about what "information" or "facts" are. It supposes that readily available raw facts about the real physical condition of the outside world is what gives us information, and it is curioulsy expected that facts - information - can substitute or replace the actual physical experience. It is assumed that the world consists of information readily available to the senses, waiting to be "learned". This is incorrect, and there's a simple reason why. Information is not even supposed to substitute physical experience. One would think this is obviously impossible. Information is encoding, it's a presentation of beliefs or facts or thoughts in a specific medium, be it language, speech or any other notational system. Information is always encoded into a specific medium that is clearly and inevitably distinct from what the information itself is about.

If I had the complete physical information about, say, an earthquake, am I now supposed to assume that because my knowledge about the subject is exhaustibly complete, this information must turn into, cause, or in fact, be an earthquake? This is plainly ridiculous. To assume that all knowledge about something is that something is false, even absurd: a complete knowledge about earthquakes is not itself an earthquake.

It seems to me that the background for this line of thinking is the objectivist account of the world, that true facts about the world are just waiting to be perceived, that in fact the world consists of information and facts. This is, in my mind, wrong. First comes the physical experience, of living in the world. From that experience, information - knowledge - is gleaned, abstracted. When Mary leaves the room, she physically experiences color for the first time. There is nothing non-physical about this. It's a real world physical experience, which abstracted, second order information cannot substitute. Knowledge does not equal the world. Knowledge is only about the world.

August 17, 2005

Environment becoming us

Recently, I read an article in The Guardian by George Monbiot about some of the implications of Darwinism, for example that according to the theory of evolution, life has no purpose, and how this may be disconcerting for many people. This is not what I want to talk about, however. Instead, a couple of the passages, which are in fact a reiteration of a common theme among evolutionary theorists and many a layman as well, struck me as a bit curious. The passages were these:


Darwinian evolution tells us that we are incipient compost: assemblages of complex molecules that - for no greater purpose than to secure sources of energy against competing claims - have developed the ability to speculate. After a few score years, the molecules disaggregate and return whence they came. Period.

As a gardener and ecologist, I find this oddly comforting. I like the idea of literal reincarnation: that the molecules of which I am composed will, once I have rotted, be incorporated into other organisms. Bits of me will be pushing through the growing tips of trees, will creep over them as caterpillars, will hunt those caterpillars as birds. When I die, I'd like to be buried in a fashion which ensures that no part of me is wasted. Then I can claim to have been of some use after all.


While I understand that this is meant to describe how one can find solace in a purely materialistic world, I'm struck by the fact that essentially all the versions of the above passage always go in the same direction: first, you have "me" or "you" - the human being, who then dies and is re-used by various other organisms. In this manner, the human being begets other life forms, and is, in a certain sense, a basis for them.


But for some reason, you never hear the opposite: that before you, there have been life forms roaming around and then dying, and parts of them have reassembled to form you. Every human being is composed of atoms and molecules that were previously parts of other life forms, including other humans. Why is this part never emphasized?


For one thing, there is of course the matter that this is not particularly comforting. Yet there may be something else as well, for if you claim that other organisms come from you, you can remain as the basis, as the foundation for further life. The exalted position of human beings remains: you may not live forever yourself, but you now beget new life! But to admit that you yourself are composed of parts of other beings, you are no longer a foundation, and you form a starting point for new life in a much more mundane and irrelevant fashion, since the bits that made you previously made, with no reservations whatsoever, other life forms, and will go on creating yet more life, with you not being a foundation or base, but just a random, accidental moment in the unstoppable stream of life.


To use the rhetoric of “my molecules are incorporated into other organisms” is to retain the important role and position of humans in nature’s scheme. To admit that the molecules of other organisms were incorporated into you, and next will be incorporated into something else, is once again to dethrone human beings from a position of importance. The claim that "Bits of me will be pushing through the growing tips of trees, will creep over them as caterpillars, will hunt those caterpillars as birds" is rhetoric with a purpose of retaining a position of importance and relevance for human beings in the universe. For it's not really bits of "you" or mr. Monbiot crawling around as catepillars. It would be equally accurate to say that roaming catepillars perhaps now form a part of me and you and mr. Monbiot and perhaps in a sense wrote his article!

Finally, it should be noted that there is an error in the passages quoted. It has been estimated that all the atoms composing an individual human being are completely replaced during an approximately seven year period. You don't have to die for your molecules to be passed on. Seven years from this moment on, not a single atom that comprises you at this moment will be part of you then. This means that not only are we constantly in the process of becoming catepillars or birds or trees, but that bits of catepillars and birds and trees are constantly in the process of becoming us! And as far as our environment is concerned, it doesn't make the slightest bit of difference, if a particular molecule is part of me, you or mr. Monbiot. The fact of the matter is: we do not become new organisms who then inhabit the environment. Instead, the environment becomes us.

August 11, 2005

Travels in metaphors of time

I wrote this article for the first issue of EKA Ajakiri, a magazine of the Estonian Academy of Arts, due to be published in September. I originally wrote it in Estonian, and this english translation is not mine, so beware of the various mistakes and poor syntax. I have no time at this moment to fix it myself.


Time has doubtless been one of the most bizarre and obscure phenomena for human beings throughout history. This strange notion cannot be seen or touched yet it is everywhere and its course is unchangeable.

But people are ingenious creatures and never sit idle when they face a puzzle. If they plunge into complicated situations they tend to use a pragmatic trick — they attempt to explain the incomprehensible with the help of things that are familiar, understandable and close to them. This was done for instance in the 17th and 18th century when the nature and behaviour of animals was explained by means of the laws of mechanics, and also after the 1960s when the functioning of the human brain was compared to a large and complex digital computer. Although both views are already abandoned, this kind of approach has not disappeared.

This method for explaining things is not characteristic only for the different branches of science — it has also become rooted in the human language and is, to a great extent, universal because it is directly caused by the way the human brain functions. Actually, we explain something with the help of some other thing — usually a physical experience — every day, with almost all our sentences. In order to understand abstract or complicated things we turn to some familiar domain and use its terms and expressions.

Perhaps this argument sounds a little bit strange, so it should be explained in greater detail. For instance, we cannot deny that our most important sense is probably sight. Unlike many other mammals, people are not mostly guided by smell sensations but by seeing. And as this sense is so important to us, we employ a number of metaphors in language that are related to seeing, even when we talk about things that have nothing to do with it. We say for example that “I am hazy about this” or that everything has to be seen in the “light of reason” and even that “it was made clear to me” — something is “clear” when everything can be seen well, for example when the sky or weather is clear or when the water in the sea is so clear that you can see the bottom.

Another example is the use of metaphors of space to understand the increase or decrease of numbers. We say that “prices go up” or that the “stock exchange fell”. Neither of these things can actually go up somewhere or fall down — prices and the stock exchange index are abstract phenomena. What is even more relevant to our subject is that we understand time also as something spatial or as moving through space. We say for instance that “time flies” or “goes by”, “the time has arrived to take action” or that “the deadline for submitting this article is rapidly approaching”. Once again — time does not fly or arrive — has anybody ever held time in their hands? Neither does a deadline get near someone in some direct, literal way, because a deadline is also an abstract notion and cannot approach anybody.

Thus we use our everyday experiences which we gain by being human beings right here on our planet, in order to understand abstract things. The amount of such metaphors is endless and so we can say that all human languages are to a great extent metaphorical and not literal or word for word.

But not being aware of this circumstance, people usually believe that when they talk about things, they talk about them in an exact and straightforward manner. And one of these time-related fields where there have been mixed up metaphors stemming from bodily experience and literal expressions is time travel. I would assert that in the cases of time travelling as they are usually treated in science fiction and often even in academic writings, the metaphors are used incorrectly. Or rather, that when talking about time travelling, people use metaphors that are not appropriate for describing or understanding this phenomenon.

It all starts with the travelling part. Travelling, or in other words simply all kinds of movement, is something that we all do every day and without this phenomenon human activity is inconceivable. What is even more important is that travelling happens in space. We learn already at high school that the universe consists of four dimensions — three spatial dimensions and one of time. Isn’t it natural to think that if we can move in space we can also do it in time?

Wherever we encounter the subject of time travel, we also meet metaphors related to space and moving in it. For example, let’s look at the idea of travelling back in time. When we say that it is possible to travel in time, then it should mean that all moments of time exist somewhere physically — otherwise our travels would have no destination. There has to be a “place” where all moments of time permanently and physically exist. This in turn implies that somewhere there is an incalculably huge hyper space — time’s space that is full of endless universes, each of which is physically one moment in time, and every object in the universe has stretched itself like spaghetti through this hyper space, in order to mark its chronological course.

Technically speaking, of course, we do not only move in space — we move in space and spend time for it. The question arises that if we travel into the past shouldn’t this movement itself also spend time? Science fiction authors want to persuade us that we move into the past, but at the same time, this movement should also take time, in other words — carry us towards the future. This creates a paradox — if we talk about travelling into the past then this journey should inevitably carry us towards the future instead…

In the everyday sense at least, there cannot be a physically existing past — because the mere idea of it presumes making time “space-like”. Our ideas of time travels are based on the use of unsuitable metaphors. If we disentangle these metaphors, we should assume instead that only the present can exist – an endlessly changing, flowing and dynamic present that moves towards the time arrow that is created by the principle of entropy. The future also cannot “exist” in any other way than merely through the possibilities and potentials of the changing universe. It is impossible to travel back in time because the past where we would like to travel does not exist anywhere physically.

August 2, 2005

Genetics and the myth of universal human nature

The belief in a universal human nature is widespread, and during the past decades it seems to have gained support from the fields related to genetics and the theory of evolution, most notably from the brave new sciences of sociobiology and evolutionary psychology. One of the claims - and in principle, a correct one - is that the human genome is one of the least diverse genomes known, being 99.9% identical between two human beings.

However, this is far from being the whole story, and I tend to believe that the underlying, often implicit belief in a universal human nature - something essential in us all that we inevitably share - has altered the rhetoric in which facts are presented in, in order to support and legitimize this belief. So here's a brief overview full story, and it's much different and more complex implications.

If you take two ordinary human beings and map their respective genomes, you will indeed discover that 99.9% of the two genomes are identical. The remaining 0.1% are the changes, the alterations, the mutations, technically called "single nucleotide polymorphisms", or SNPs - one of the bases for individual variation. But the point is that these mutations can occur anywhere in the genome. If you add a third person, his or her genome will also differ from the other two by 0.1%, but the SNPs are in different places from those of the others. Add more people, and each of them has these mutations in different locations along the genome. In fact, there is nothing in the genome that has to be shared by all humans, nothing that every individual has to have, nothing that makes him or her a human being, the changing of which will change him or her to something else. There is nothing essential in the human genome, nothing that makes us all "humans", nothing that makes us all the same.

Nevertheless, we never really hear it put this way. We hear that 99.9% of the human genome is essentially the same in all of us, justifying the belief that we are all the same, that we all share a universal human nature.

Even the very phrase "the human genome" is misleading. There is no such thing as "the" human genome. There are instead six billion human genomes, one inside every individual human being, all sharing 99.9% and nothing at all at the same time. To quote the biochemist David Cox, "all humans share nothing".

Luckily though, the exasperating reign of the modern synthesis seems to be slowly drawing to its end. More and more criticism is being levelled against its simplistic credo and its banal accomplices, the selfish genes, memes, and the the excesses of sociobiological thinking. I would like to point out a great new book, Evolution In Four Dimensions by Eva Jablonka and Marion J. Lamb. The Guardian review sums it up nicely.

August 1, 2005

Of useless blogs

In 1494, Sebastian Brandt, a German humanist and satirist, published his hugely influential and widely read satire, Das Narrnenschiff, The Ship of Fools, Stultifera Navis in Latin, an allegory about a ship laden with fools and steered by fools to the fools' paradise of Narragenia.


The very first fool on his long list is the "Bühernarr" a bibliomaniac, literally a "book fool", who had an especially exalted position aboard the ship, because he had many books that he neither read nor understood.

This blog is by a real-life book-fool, and it represents his lunatic and foolish journey across books, ideas and thoughts which he pretends to have read or thought of, and even more haughtily claims to have understood.

Den Vordantz hat man mir gelan
Dann ich on nutz vil buecher han
Die ich nit lyß und nyt verstan