competition versus brotherhood…

Tuesday, February 5th, 2013
Napoleon crowned with a laurel wreath © Ingres

Napoleon crowned with a laurel wreath © Ingres

A mania for competition so possesses our societies that it is hard to imagine any other way of being, and yet I think it is critical that we free ourselves from its grip.

In the West, the Christian churches, from long habit, had an explanation for everything. Alas, with the rise of science, these churches chose to cling to Old Testament ‘certainties’, with the result that, when the cosmology of ‘Creation’ was overturned, the New Testament began to sink with it.

In Western civilisation, only the peace-making teachings of Jesus Christ were strong enough to stand up against that other hoary tradition: constant conflict. The wolf-eat-dog mentality of the Roman Republic, for example, devoured the western half of the ‘ancient world’, and was only, by the Empire’s adoption of Christianity, moderately tamed. The sporting competitions at Olympia, that were really the internecine warfare between the Greek city states in a ‘gentler’ form, crowned their winners with wreaths; their Roman conquerors wore laurel wreaths as a sign of military victory. This vertical dimension in human affairs, that raises the winner above the loser, is also the basis of hierarchies of power; the ruler sitting enthroned in triumph above the ruled. It was Christ (and the other great prophets) who preached a levelling horizontal dimension: the brotherhood each man should feel for another.

Our tendency towards hierarchy is balanced by another for fairness and equality: though we are individuals, we are also social animals. It was Darwin who administered the deepest wound to Christianity. His ‘survival of the fittest’ dethroned Man from the centre of Creation; as Copernicus had dislodged the Earth from the centre of the Universe. The brotherhood of Man was reduced to individuals struggling against each other – a process of atomisation that culminated in Dawkins ‘selfish gene’. With fateful timing, On the Origin of Species arrived even as the Industrial Revolution was tearing society apart. Evolution ‘proved’ that we were all in desperate competition with each other: man against man – and, by analogy, tribe against tribe, nation against nation. This process of ‘individualisation’ was termed ‘progress’, itself a survival of Christianity’s linear time: creation, salvation, judgement, (as is another survival: the pernicious belief that God gave us the world for our use). Other societies, the Asian East for example, whose achievements of peace and beliefs in cyclical time were dismissed as ‘stagnation’, were shattered by our Western ‘progress’. Our civilisation conquered using the results of our relentless competition: weapons and industrialisation. All these factors coalesced with ever greater fury into the maelstrom of wars that we sucked the rest of the world into. Hitler’s creed, however crooked, was rooted in what had gone before.

So here we are today in a world that is still dominated by our Western ‘progress’. Socialism, the inheritor of Christ’s horizontal, levelling doctrine, is everywhere in retreat. Capitalism, in spite of all its failures, rules triumphant. And what is this ‘capitalism’ if not competition – endless, unrelenting competition? And what is competition but warfare writ small. Even in the modest arena of a football ground is it hard to see the game as being a ‘little war’?

Competition, whatever mask it wears, is the deadly foe of universal brotherhood. It is the vertical dimension in human affairs that sorts people into winners and losers. If we are determined to define our existence along this axis, then we should hardly be surprised that the gap between rich and poor is everywhere widening. We should hardly be surprised that we are all in a race against each other, a race that, when it doesn’t actually spill blood, rips our planet to pieces to feed its insatiable appetite for ‘progress’. We all know that we are on a trajectory to disaster, but even now our politicians are urging us to ‘grow’ our economies at ever greater speed.

For now at least religion’s credibility is spent. When it fights science with explanations of the world a thousand years old, it is going to lose. When it turns to violence, it loses. All the old forms of universal brotherhood have lost their power. We can hope that, through the internet, new forms are rising. But in the meantime, let us at least bear down on ‘competition’ – for in all its guises it is destructive to the world and to ourselves…

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the experimental past…

Sunday, January 27th, 2013
gate carved from a single piece of stone, Tiwanaku ©www.crystalinks.com

gate carved from a single piece of stone, Tiwanaku ©www.crystalinks.com

The study of the history of non-Western societies – especially those that have ‘failed’ – may be one of the most valuable resources that we have to help guide us through the coming ‘time of difficulty’ that we seem to be heading for.

Watching a good BBC documentary about Tiwanaku, I was struck by how pertinent to our present climate change woes was the story of these people, not only surviving, but flourishing in an environment that most of us would consider adverse to human existence. Not only do they provide us possibly with lessons in sustainable living – with their numerous adaptive feats of agriculture, technology and infrastructure design, but, perhaps even more importantly, they are a ‘social experiment’ carried out across diverse cultural groups, and over a span of centuries, of varying landscapes and climactic zones. It can hardly be imagined that any projected environmental ‘study’ that we are capable of – however powerful the computers we might use to produce a simulation – could possibly come close to providing us with the real world information that just this one example can.

The pre-conquest cultures of South America (specifically the Andean regions, with extensions east into the Amazon basin, and west into the narrow strip of land that runs between the Andes and the Pacific Ocean) may seem remote and only of interest to eccentric antiquarians, but the topography of that continent has provided, throughout history, a multitude of incredibly diverse landscapes that challenged the survival of the societies who lived in them. The level of adaptation that these societies made (or were forced to make) to their environments have revealed the remarkable truth that, without fossil fuels, large domestic animals, the wheel, or any use of metals (and alloys) harder than copper, they managed, in many places, to sustain larger populations than we are capable of today, and did so with enough comfort to be able to produce monumental architecture. The very complexity of the topography of South America has created a multiplicity of ‘niches’, often abutting against each other, in which such societies could develop. Empires in this region could thus, even when not spanning vast distances, take in everything from a torrid seacoast niche, to the high Altiplano and everything in between. Of particular interest is that many of these ‘experiments’ ultimately failed when the climate changed.

There are countless other examples from elsewhere. The Maya for one, whose population in the relatively constrained Yucatan, in that relatively constrained space, may have reached the kind of numbers that the early Roman Empire reached in its encircling of the Mediterranean. The reasons given for the ultimate collapse of Mayan civilization are varied, but a favoured explanation is that this occurred as a result of environmental degradation produced by over population. Another example, perhaps the example, is that of Easter Island – a social experiment carried out on an island that, through its extreme isolation, was as closed a system as a petri dish.

Other civilizations experimented with forms of government and of economic organisation. The Achaemenid Persian Empire, for example (that I have been studying as the setting for a novel). The study of these ‘dead’ cultures may seem esoteric (for all their beauty and fascination): at times I have thought such to be a sort of ‘ancestor worship’ – but consider if these studies may not perhaps turn out to be critical to us as our own civilisation edges towards its own possible collapse from climate change, environmental degradation, and competing and failing models of governance?

As the West loses its pre-eminence in human affairs, we seem to be less and less blind to these other histories. Until recently we have been obsessed with ourselves, with tracing the rise of our greatness, so that so many of our historians have lavished their attention on investigating the ‘line of progress’ that has brought us – apparently – from the birth of civilisation in Mesopotamia, through ancient Greece and Israel (with an input from ancient Egypt), through Rome, to Europe and then the period of Western imperialism that has ‘blossomed’ into our current system of global capitalism. On one level, this could be seen as a sort of ‘psychotherapy’ of Western civilization, though on another could it not be seen as a neo-Darwinist project that has been developing a narrative for why our dominance was not only justified, but inevitable? Either way, it seems to me that as we (humanity) realize that our culture seems to be leading us to disaster, we no longer have the luxury of such self-obsession.

So, rather than considering this exploration of non-Western history as some kind of pursuit for ivory tower scholars, I would like to suggest that is in fact a bringing together of all the critical knowledge and wisdom that can be gleaned from the social experiments that humanity has been carrying out on this planet over thousands of years. These experiments, participated in by people like ourselves, pushed frontiers and called on the ingenuity that we are capable of and came up with solutions that it would be wise of us to take heed of. Even more, the failures of these experiments provide us with lessons that were bought with the lives and diminishing opportunites of people for whom their societies were not experiments, but the lives they lived as best they could…

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vitruvian lobster…

Monday, November 19th, 2012

vitruvian lobster ©http://www.lobstart.com

Thank you Darwin for liberating us from the absurd notion that Man is God’s ultimate and most beautiful creation. When this notion was generally believed – at least in the West with its obsession with Ancient Greece’s perfect white marble nudes (that we now know were painted as gaudily as the carvings that smother Hindu temples) – did no one actually bother to look at other living things? Did no one see butterflies, birds, mammals, fish, cephalopods, jellyfish, the exquisite miniatures that are insects and the myriad other beasts with which we share our planet? In what did our purported supreme beauty consist? Surely it was not colour, nor pattern, nor iridescent plumage. Other species challenge us for beauty of eye, of limb, of skin. Or is it in another Ancient Greek conceit that our divinity lies: the supposed sublime beauty of Man in motion? At least Usain Bolt is doing something we were ‘designed’ to do – but are we also going to claim this triumph for Man in water; as if we somehow outdo the fish, the dolphins, with our splashing.

This attitude that Man is the very centre and the purpose, the crowning glory of Creation can surely only be held by people who live in fear and terror of their own insignificance. I have no doubt that early Man, close as he was – necessarily close – to Nature, did not dare these absurdities. For him animals were his brothers, sometimes even his gods. But then we started to move away from Nature, to get ‘above ourselves’… and, scaling the pinnacle of Creation, we attempted to enthrone ourselves upon its utmost summit. And from there, with imperious gaze, we fancied ourselves the Rulers of Creation, and who can doubt that we still do?

This mania started in fear, and with the thrusting out of our chests to impress each other, but it ends altogether more messily. We put this lie in the mouth of our gods. We use it to justify the way we wish to treat other living creatures as things, as resources. We insist on making Man the measure of Creation. Darwin confronted us with the truth, and it was devastating, and can we doubt the part that trauma played in the darker dramas of the 20th Century?

Still, if you ask anyone who has heard of Darwin, what it is his theory proves about us? many people will point to processions of apes and early humans slowly straightening, eventually becoming the paragon that is Man. We still persist in imagining some gulf between us and other animals. This belief, this thing we seem to need to believe, has become ingrained. No amount of evidence is going to change our minds. Why should it? Even before Darwin we surely saw that we bore the same basic shape as many other animals. We must have noticed how when we copulated it was not some grand act elevated beyond what we saw other animals doing. We must have noticed that this most perfect of God’s creation still needed to go to the toilet… and that if such wasn’t present, we squat to defecate as so many other animals do. No, I don’t believe that Victorians were really shocked to find out that they were descended from apes – I think it was just that it threatened to force them to admit what they must have already suspected, and that whatever trauma we suffered was merely our hysteria at no longer being able to peddle the delusion of our near-angelic status…

Why does this matter? Well, it certainly matters to the creatures who we harm all the time, often deliberately. It matters in that it allows us to decide that increasing the size of our economy is more important than preserving this species or that; each every bit as valuable a leaf on the tree of life as are we. And ultimately it matters – let’s get back to business as usual – because our need to believe that we are ‘special’ makes us blind to the reality that underpins our existence, and we are approaching a time when that reality is threatening to do to us what we have done to so many other species…

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yoga bear…

Thursday, February 17th, 2011

bear demonstrating yoga posture "dancing bear"

bear doing yoga © Meta Penca


Upavishta Konasana

© Beryl Bender Birch doing merudandasana

This picture is one of several taken by Meta Penca, a 29 year old web programmer from Slovenia, of Santra the bear doing her exercises at the Ahtari Zoo in Finland. Strangely, or not so strangely, this is exactly the same as the yoga posture Merudasana, Balancing Bear Posture (rather more prosaically also known as Upavishta Konasana, Seated Angle Posture.) Taking this name into account and comparing the two photographs, it seems obvious to me where the idea came from – it seems unlikely the bear is copying some human.

In the past humans learned a lot from animals. Yoga is filled with examples, then so is T’ai Chi (a part of one form is called White Crane Flaps Wings). Now you might say that the reason for this is because our forebears (*grin* no pun intended) were much closer to nature. However, I imagine that bears were no easier to watch then than they are now in our zoos, books or TV. I would suggest the real difference is that our forebears actually considered animals worth learning from. For them, the gap between us and animals was much smaller. Clearly by the time our civilizations began industrializing this gap had grown almost unbridgeable (some of this is down to religion, but that’s another issue).

If it had not it is hardly to be supposed that Darwin’s revelations about our origins would have caused quite so much consternation. In spite of now knowing that we are directly descended from apes (and they from other creatures all the way back to the first organism), we still have an ‘us and them’ attitude to our fellow animals. That we no longer feel we have anything to learn from them is an example of our hubris, and is not just our loss, but also theirs…

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human uniqueness…

Tuesday, May 26th, 2009

I was just reading a review of Wild Justice that included the sentence: “Many people are uncomfortable with the idea of ascribing morality to animals because it seems to threaten the uniqueness of humans”…

Nothing could more succinctly demonstrate how neurotic a species we are. How amazingly insecure are we, the Rulers of the Earth, the ‘paragon of animals’? It used to be that we relied on an absolute division between us and ‘them’ – a distinction insisted on by our holy books – for are we not, after all, made in the image of God…? When Darwin punctured this conceit we regrouped behind other barricades – our language, our culture, our tool using, our ‘reasoning’ – as researchers have brought down each of these in turn, we have scurried to a new defence… All of them seem to me to be something akin to: but do whales sit in rocking chairs smoking pipes and reading magazines? Thus we move the goal posts to make sure we always win!

Isn’t it about time that we grew up – that we started finding confidence in what we are within ourselves, and accept that we are one animal among many…? The sooner we do that, the sooner we will stop behaving like spoilt children…

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