Plato

Now that rich white men have seized power, studying dead white men is all the rage. Mostly it’s a social signal to show who has “merit.” Among the things one must know to be admitted to the club is a gloss of Plato .

I’ve read Plato. I found him a boring ignorant old fool. As are the philosophical musings of anything written before the 19th century – particularly before Darwin and Einstein who finally placed humans properly in the universe .

I enthusiastically enjoy history. I freely admit that any human over the last 50,000 years could think as well as I do, experience life just as deeply. People are complex, amazing, and deal with existence in miraculous ways .

But logic – Plato is very logical, for example – is a tricky tool. Useful but easily dangerous. Politicians, preachers, and various madmen are always able to construct wonderful logical castles on completely wrong and stupid foundations. Plato sees visions of “real ideal” and imagines fairy tale perfect men who wisely use logic to rule everything. He includes souls and reincarnation. In fact, he has no idea of everything we actually know about – well – everything .

Oh, there are major things still unknown and maybe unknowable. The nature of time, the meaning of consciousness, the purpose (if any) of life. None of that related to the cold dead weight of writings such as the Republic.

Learning to See

Seeing seems completely obvious to us, but computer researchers have discovered just how weird it is. We combine binocular vision with experience to create objects – some as they are, some different, some imaginary. Nothing is really “objective” or “true”. More than that, we constantly select and focus. Our vision keeps constantly shifting second by second. We learn to find what is relevant to us. A hunter sees signs of prey or movement in the grass. A developer or general maps terrain to possible advantage. Artists look for patterns that are beautiful or interesting .

When I start to sketch, after a period of inactivity, the first thing I notice is how odd my results are. Stuff seems the wrong size or color. Nothing matches what would be on a photograph of the same view .

Ah, that’s a modern dilemma. Old paintings, especially pre-renaissance, had less strict rules – or the rules were different. Important people, for example, were usually larger than less important people. Certain conventions – “city walls” for example – were almost pictograms. Oh, some work was magnificently “realistic” – cave paintings, Roman mosaics, Chinese flowers and birds. But all saw in certain ways, and accepted certain conventions .

As do I. My sketches try to become more and more like photographs. I resist the tendency fiercely, but I am losing. That tension actually provides a lot of entertaining, engrossing, fun.

Should Be Better, Could Be Worse

Pop psychology asks “is the glass half empty or half full?” I’m a middling type, so I always thought “both”. I was more aware that by tomorrow the glass might be overflowing, dry, or broken .

I’ve led a fortunate life. One of the great gifts – unappreciated at the time – was a spell of near poverty when I was a young adult. It put some perspective into my outlook. Since then, I’ve always been much more keenly aware of the difficulties others have than of their imagined happiness .

It settled into “should be better, could be worse”. That philosophy has served well at work, raising a family, and now in retirement. Half empty, half full, no matter, adjust and seize the day .

Interestingly, most of it is a simple mental adjustment. After all, a monk sworn to poverty can be quite content. Wealthy people with the world at their fingertips can be neurotically miserable. I’ve cultivated a sense of permanent contentment, as opposed to the militant envy screamed by this culture and its commercials .

Anyway, there the glass sits, inertly evoking whatever mood we desire. That trick of permanent uncertainty and our ability to control how we feel about it is one of the greatest glories of being human .

Venal

“Venal” is a useful old word for describing someone in government who is susceptible to bribes. In the most egregious cases, that someone also actively solicits them. Usually this is accompanied with threats if the bribes are not forthcoming .

Much of the world works this way. It always did. Local officials can rarely avoid it, even if they are basically honest. It’s human nature to expect gratitude and to return favor for favor .

The sometime naive idealism of Americans believed they could avoid it. Laws. Checks and balances. A free press. Strong opposition parties. We happily followed accusations, investigations, trials, convictions .

Now? Well, venal often refers to monetary bribes, but there are others. Flattery for example. Stroking the ego, right or wrong. “No backbone”. We see the signs.

Not that money is out of the picture. Billions are being made by high and low officials on crypto deals, inside trading, and pure slush spending .

Nor are the massive threats missing .

I guess, given that everyone thinks it’s okay, a venal government is what we have come to deserve. A payout for our native cynicism. No longer exceptional. Just like everyone else .

Initiation

Babies are born with few instincts, beyond the most primitive reactions to pain. How to suck, making eye contact, possibly fear of snakes. Most everything we become is acquired via learning. Any baby placed in any social environment will pretty much work out, all things considered .

Of course we learn quickly, spontaneously, consciously and unconsciously. Children are amazingly flexible and accept almost any situation as normal. Until they grow old enough for logic to kick in. Then things get complicated indeed, more so as experience and contact networks enlarge .

So, for the most part, it is no surprise that most people born into any culture support that culture. Not only that, but support their own class and the position of their family in that culture. That is probably a kind of innate human instinct, necessary for tribes and societies to survive .

Oh, of course we can “reprogram”. We often do – or at least think we do – as adolescents, prime youths, or middle-aged adults. How well we adjust to “paradigm shifts” in society – which now seem to arrive with frightening speed and frequency – depends much on how old we are .

I find that after much turmoil and adjustment as the entire world changed, I still retain many of my early initiations .

For better or worse .

Crowd Pleasing

We all love a crowd-pleasing act. It is fun to be amazed and entertained by improbable performances that lift us out of our ordinary thoughts. We willingly spend time and money to enjoy the show .

Every crowd pleaser starts as a clown. Bright clothes, exaggerated gestures, loud sounds, and crazy antics. No magician wants anyone to be looking at the sky while they pull a rabbit out of a hat. They must keep us focused all the time on what they want us to see. A wonderful moment, when all goes well .

But is it any way to run a country? Democracy relies on it. Other systems may use brute force, or rigid tradition, or even intellectual logic. But votes (real free votes, anyway) require a massive crowd-pleasing act, first to grab attention, then to follow through on what must be done .

All systems have flaws. The exact type of the democratic tradition matters. Technology and situations radically change things. In a rainstorm a magic show doesn’t work. There’s no reason to believe crowd pleasers are worse than any other kind of ruler .

The only problem – in all methods – is when the audience is too small, too isolated, too ignorant and begins to believe it represents everyone else, or a god, or the universe. Then the performer becomes purely a cult leader rallying fanatics – and often only trying to maintain a tiny audience’s attention and duration .

Father William

“You are old, Father William…” (look up the Lewis Carroll poem if you don’t know it.) It pretty well captures my outlook and that of many of my more sane friends .

Young people think a variety of things about their elders. It’s natural, we did the same thing years ago. In some ways they revere what we have done, they think we have accumulated wisdom and gained perspective. In other ways they know we are irrelevant, stubborn, and often irritating, not to mention completely out of touch. All true .

But the key – as in the poem – is silliness. Elders can hardly take the future seriously (those of us who do so are the worst enemies of civilization.) Old people should be irrelevant to everyone but their immediate family. Our knowledge is vast and hard won, but hardly applicable to various modern crises. We enjoy our personal shell and bubble, but are well aware of how fragile it is. It won’t last very long …

So Father William jokes a lot and seems out of touch and a little sly. And yet – my days are joyful and my worries more immediate than they used to be. I think that attitude is appropriate for my age. But, of course, I would think so.

Wind and (A)I

Long Island has so far been spared most of the more severe aspects of climate change. A little drought, more rain during storms. Rising sea levels in the bays wreaking havoc with ecologies and worrying shoreline property owners. Oh, and wind …

I was walking in the park yesterday into a cold fierce gale. Now, climate deniers will say there have always been such things, but in my experience they seem to be increasing. Anyway, cold, cutting, but benign enough. I smiled into the frosty blow, leaned forward, and enjoyed the minor adventure .

That in a nutshell is why being human is not simply being an intelligence. I feel the wind and experience the world at an animal level that cannot be wired into a machine. My hormones and flesh react into an engulfing experience .

Now, I know AI will be able to measure the wind, maybe use it to adjust things like turbines, record it, “speak” to others of the “facts”. But it does not now – and I claim never will – feel it as I do .

That’s why I pity and fear those who claim they hope to pour themselves into artificial intelligence. Smarts with personality. I think that in so doing their pure logic will be horrific, untethered from the reality of experiences like that wind .

All of that is beyond my influence. I commit once more to enjoying my animal nature deeply and with appreciation .

Lines and Shadows

Art instruction books often begin by stating “there are no lines in nature.” Which is obviously, annoyingly, both true and false. “Nature” may not have a horizon “line” drawn where earth meets sky, but people certainly perceive that line. As do their mechanical devices .

So beginners always start with lines. Kids outline flowers and houses in their first drawings. Stick figures, on the other hand, are abstract ideas of people like Mommy or Daddy with important bits – torso, limbs, and head – largely symbolic.

Shading is just as strange. Mostly we perceive shadows as darker shapes, but impressionists found them more real by adding colors .

The point of all this is that very little – even human basic perception – is quite as simple as it appears. This has been driven home lately by how much trouble computers have interpreting visual information like boxes in a pile .

Beyond that, things like lines and shadows require some concentrated imagination which is one of the reasons most of us like drawing and other visual arts. Not because it is “true” but because it is “fun” .

No lines in nature. An awful lot in our heads .

Hot Shower

This morning I pulled myself from my comfortable clean insect-free bed. Heated instant coffee in a microwave, drank it gratefully in a soft chair as I watched birds fly against a blue sky behind budding maple branches. Wrote in a journal with a ball-point pen, checked news on the internet. Woke up with a hot shower, shave, brushing teeth. Put on warm clothes, brought in the emptied trash cans and newspaper … and on and on .

Every one of these things would seem miraculous to most humans living over a hundred years ago. Many are still unavailable to many people today. All taken for granted by me .

Electricity! Water! Safety! But you can complete the endless list without help.

A sad note is that we rarely notice how wonderful all this is. From the top down, everyone loves to complain. Our leaders scream that we live in a hell hole surrounded by horrible aliens. Neighbors worry that their house is too old and small, their yards too filled with dust, perhaps their children less than perfect. Ignore the wonderful, concentrate on whatever bothers us (this moment).

I’ve always been a little too complacent and content, more so now that I am elder and retired. I’m amazed that the sun rises, electricity works, and that I am so much alive. And that hot morning shower remains a treat worthy of gods – which in some ways we are .