Category: Reading

What I See Outside My Window vs. What I See on My TV Screen

by James Wallace Harris, 7/5/24

The picture above was taken from my dining room window. Not much is happening. It’s quiet and peaceful. In my den, looking through the sixty-five inch window of my television screen, I see so much turmoil and suffering. The fall of civilization is what’s happening.

One of my favorite novels is called The Door into Summer because the cat in the story hates New England winters and asks to see what’s out every door hoping to find one that leads to summer. I can open my front door and walk out into summer. It’s 77 degrees outside right now – not bad at all for July in a year that might become the hottest year on record. So, why do I spend my days watching television when all it does is to depress me?

The need to know what’s happening is a burden. The belief that I can control anything through knowing more is an illusion and deception. However, there are wars going on all around me and I don’t know if I can sit them out. My friend Anne lives in a nice neighborhood too, but last week there was a shooting at the house one over from hers. Yesterday was the 4th of July, and we heard plenty of fireworks. But we also heard plenty of guys shooting off their guns.

Crime and climate change are getting nearer all the time. What if I looked out my window and saw this:

Thousands of people are seeing this everyday around the world because of hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, and fires. In a decade it could be millions seeing such sites every day. Can we learn anything to avoid that future?

There is a cultural war happening all over the world and the battles are being fought in polling booths. Popularism wants to rewind the clock on progressive progress. To understand this, watch this talk by David Brooks. It’s one of the most uplifting things I’ve seen on my television screen in a very long time.

If you listen to Brooks, you’ll understand what the conservatives want to do with their Project 2025 plan and why. They believe it is their door into summer. If they succeed, I believe 1/20/2025 will be remembered like 4/12/1861 or 6/28/1914. It would be so much easier for my mental health to quit watching TV, but is that really an option? I can understand why Christians are fighting so hard for their way of life. I would have no problem surviving in their utopia if they got everything they wanted. But millions of people wouldn’t, and it will lead to civil war and self-destruction.

The world is going nuts while the environment is going down the drain. On one hand, I can’t stop watching this slow-motion apocalypse. One the other hand, I just want to look out my window or read a science fiction novel.

JWH

I Want to Argue with Carlo Rovelli

by James Wallace Harris, 7/1/24

Can I understand science if I’m not a scientist? I read popular science books, but that doesn’t mean I understand the work that went into making the scientific discoveries they report on. However, is it possible for me to intuit what popular science writers are describing?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of Universal Now. What is this thing we call now? How is it different from the past and future? But the most important question that’s driving me crazy is: Is it now everywhere in the universe at the same time? But then, what is time? I went looking for a book that might answer these questions and found The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli. I discovered that book from finding the article “Now Means Nothing: How Time Works in Our Universe” online. It was taken from The Order of Time.

This passage tangles up my brain:

Now Means Nothing 

What is happening now in a distant place? Imagine, for example, your sister has gone to Proxima b, the recently discovered planet that orbits a star approximately 4 light-years away from us. What is your sister doing now on Proxima b?

The only correct answer is that the question makes no sense. It’s like asking, “What is here, in Peking?” when we are in Venice. It makes no sense, because if I use the word “here” in Venice, I am referring to a place in Venice, not in Peking.

If you ask what your sister, who is in the room with you, is doing now, the answer is usually an easy one: You look at her, and you can tell. If she’s far away, you phone her and ask what she’s doing. But take care: If you look at your sister, you’re receiving light that travels from her to your eyes. That light takes time to reach you — let’s say a few nanoseconds, a tiny fraction of a second. Therefore, you’re not quite seeing what she’s doing now but what she was doing a few nanoseconds ago. If she’s in New York and you phone her from Liverpool, her voice takes a few milliseconds to reach you, so the most you can claim to know is what your sister was up to a few milliseconds ago. Not a significant difference, perhaps.

What does it mean, this “modification of the structure of time”? Precisely the slowing of time described above. A mass slows down time around itself. The Earth is a large mass and slows down time in its vicinity. It does so more in the plains and less in the mountains, because the plains are closer to it. This is why the friend who stays at sea level ages more slowly.

Therefore, if things fall, it is due to this slowing of time. Where time passes uniformly, in interplanetary space, things don’t fall — they float. Here on the surface of our planet, on the other hand, things fall downward because, down there, time is slowed by the Earth.

Hence, even though we cannot easily observe it, the slowing of time nevertheless has crucial effects: Things fall because of it, and it allows us to keep our feet firmly on the ground. If our feet adhere to the pavement, it is because our whole body inclines naturally to where time runs more slowly — and time passes more slowly for your feet than it does for your head.

Does this seem strange? It’s like when watching the sun set, disappearing slowly behind distant clouds, we suddenly remember that it’s not the sun that’s moving but the Earth that’s spinning. And we envision our entire planet — and ourselves with it — rotating backward, away from the sun.

I really dislike that answer. It goes against my sense of intuitive logic. I can understand that time is relative. I can even understand that it’s impossible for us to know what’s happening on Proxima b because of the speed limit of light at any given moment. But I refuse to believe that if Proxima b still exists, that the same now I’m experiencing isn’t occurring there too. Any sentient being will experience the moment of now at a different rate, but don’t we all exist in the same Universal Now?

To me, it feels natural to think of the universe as one giant entity that is evolving/growing. I can accept that time is variable in separate places within this entity, but I feel there is a Universal Now everywhere. Only it’s perceived at different speeds. And that’s okay. I don’t expect us to be in sync in our sentient awareness of the Universal Now.

For example, a hummingbird perceives time differently from people. We seem to be slow moving to it. A computer with a clock with operates at trillions of cycles per second will see time differently too. Just because we each perceive time differently, doesn’t mean we don’t all experience it in the same Universal Now.

I have read that the Big Bang didn’t occur in an infinite void, that space and time were created with the Big Bang. I picture the universe as one cosmic system that evolves/grows. Time evidently is the awareness of change/growth at any given point. That if stars were sentient, they’d feel time differently than we do, or if bacteria could sense change, or if humans were traveling at different speeds, every perspective would sense time differently. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening in one Universal Now. I just can’t grasp what Ravelli is saying.

Everything that can perceive time doesn’t perceive it in the same way, but I believe they all exist together and there is one now they are all reacting to.

If my sister Becky went to Proxima b, and we had an ansible (a science fictional communication device that can transmit and receive instantaneously from anywhere), Becky and I could have a conversation in this Universal Now that I’m talking about.

Now if Becky were on a spaceship going near the speed of light, our voices would change. I would speak so fast she couldn’t comprehend me, and she would speak so slowly I couldn’t understand her either. But if the ansible had a record feature, my message could be slowed down, and hers could be speeded up.

I’d have the same problem if I was talking with a star or a bacteria (ignoring the language barrier).

If I was on Earth, and Becky was on her way to Proxima b, and I thought, “I wonder what Becky is doing now?” Becky would being doing something.

If time is relative, and it is unfolding at different speeds, I can’t help but think, “What is it unfolding into?” To me, that’s a Universal Now, the same kind of place that spacetime unfolds into, some kind of existential nothingness. If the universe is expanding, isn’t that the same as growing? And if time is unfolding, isn’t that a kind of growing too? Maybe it’s even the same. Maybe the Now I’m talking about, and the Nothingness that spacetime is expanding into, are the same thing.

To humans, time is sensing change. It is perceived at different rates. Without an ansible, I can’t know what Becky is doing on Proxima b because it would take over four years to learn whatever it was. Where I disagree with Carlo Ravelli is Becky isn’t experiencing the same Universal Now I’m experiencing.

I can comprehend why time is relative and why different sentient beings would perceive it differently. I just can’t understand why there isn’t one Universal Now that spacetime isn’t unfolding into.

As I write this, I assume Carlo Ravelli is experiencing the same Universal Now. I can’t know what he’s doing, or what time it might be, but if he’s alive, he’s doing something, and he’s feeling time unfold at the same time I’m feeling it unfold.

And if there are multiverses. I think they all exist in the same Universal Now. I can’t understand why there isn’t nothing rather than something. But no matter how many universes or dimensions there are, I’d like to think they are all in one Universal Now. It would hurt my mind too much to imagine multiple creations.

JWH

If Ignorance is Bliss, is Knowing Suffering?

by James Wallace Harris, 6/27/24

This essay is about how keeping up with current events is hard on our mental health. Is there a point in becoming informed that turns self-destructive? Happiness seems to be a balance between knowing and not knowing, between learning and ignoring.

I’ve always been amazed by the amount of fiction we consume in our lives — the books, movies, television shows, plays, video games, role playing, comics, fantasizing, bullshitting, and so on. Is fiction our way of regulating our awareness of reality?

I’m trying to decide in this essay just how much news I should consume. I believe I have three basic choices:

  1. Ignorance really is bliss.
  2. Learn enough to maximize my own survival.
  3. Learn everything I can to answer why and maybe know what can be changed.

I also consider the first three lines of the Serenity Prayer practical advice:

God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can, and
Wisdom to know the difference.

Mental health depends on knowing what can be changed and what cannot. I believe the old saying, “ignorance is bliss” is merely advising people not to try to change things. Eastern religion and philosophy are all about acceptance, and that might be one path to happiness, or at least contentment. Western religion and philosophy have always been about control, which often leads to frustration and unhappiness. However, Western religion and politics have always been delusional because they don’t know enough to wisely make changes. Too many people think they know, but don’t. And too many people pursuing ignorance follow the people who don’t know. In other words, even if you learn everything you probably won’t be able to do anything.

For most of my life I hoped humanity would evolve into a global humanistic society that was ecologically sustainable, maximizing freedom, and minimizing inequality. That’s obviously not going to happen. Instead, we’re returning to nationalism, xenophobia, and fascism. The growing consensus advocates: get all you can, protect what you have, and let the losers lose. Even Christians have become Darwinians.

The main message in the movies and television shows we consume is the good life is eating, screwing, buying, and travel. But hasn’t that made us the most invasive and destructive species on the planet?

I believe the fiction we consume, and the fantasies we chase, is our way of self-medicating a deep depression caused by seeing too much of reality. If I read or watch too many news programs, documentaries, or nonfiction books about what’s happening around the world I get bummed out and need to retreat. Is that the best thing to do? Or the only thing to do?

How much of learning about reality is educational, soul strengthening, and enlightening? Billions of people are suffering. How important is it to know that the majority of people on this planet spend a good deal of their lives in misery?

If you only watch NBC Nightly News, Fox News, MSNBC, or CNN, you’ll only end up worrying about problems in the United States. And that’s enough to depress most people. But if you take in news from around the world, it can deeply threaten your mental health.

I watch a lot of news from all over, and I’m convinced that our civilization is in decline. The number of failed nations grows every year. The number of weather catastrophes increases every year. Wars and famines are increasing. Life expectancies are declining. Economies are breaking down, and people are dying, becoming homeless or refugees, and suffering in ever-growing numbers. We’re lucky in the United States that we don’t suffer as much, but that’s why millions want to come here.

Decades ago, I stopped watching local news so I wouldn’t be depressed about crime. Even though I live in a high crime city, I seldom hear about it, and thus seldom worry. I could do the same thing with national and international news. That would be good for my mental wellbeing, but shouldn’t I do something?

Liberals believe society should alleviate suffering through laws. Conservatives want to solve the same problems by convincing everyone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. The reality is liberals want to solve society’s problems by spending the conservative’s money, and the conservatives just want to ignore the problems and keep their money. And it seems the only problem politicians really want to solve is how to get reelected and feed their egos.

Civilization is coming undone. That’s all too obvious if you watch a lot of news and study local, state, federal, international, and world events. However, knowing, and even understanding the problems we face doesn’t empower us to solve them. We either solve them together, or not at all, and if you’re an ardent news watcher, you’ll know we’re living in an age where we don’t work together.

Here’s where I’d love to list and catalog all our problems and assess their chances of being solved. But that would take a book length bit of writing. I’m sure you see enough of the news to know about all the problems we face — or do you? Would knowing more help or hurt you?

I could construct a detailed taxonomy of all the problems we face. I could stop reading novels and watching television and study the heck out of current events. But other than finding enlightenment about why civilization is collapsing, are there any mental, spiritual, or psychological benefits to learning how and why we’re self-destructing?

The real question is: Can we do anything to stop our self-destruction if we all agreed to work together and knew the right solutions? Even if we banned all airplane travel, reduced car travel to a minimum, rebuilt the energy grid that maximized renewable energy, and we all became vegetarians, we’ve already put enough CO2 in the atmosphere to radically change the climate. We may have already destabilized the climate so it can’t be reversed.

And we don’t have to wait until the seas rise above New York and London before climate change will do us in. We’re about to see the collapse of the home insurance industry which will completely destabilize the economy around home ownership. Just that might bring about economic chaos.

I could go on. Aren’t we like cattle in a stockyard? Would knowing about the captive bolt pistol offer any personal benefit in our lives? Or is there a kind enlightenment to be achieved by figuring out how the system works?

JWH

Will People Change vs. Can People Change?

by James Wallace Harris, 2/28/24

I just finished listening to The Deluge by Stephen Markley, a book that speculates on what the next sixteen years could be like. The book is almost nine hundred pages in print, and over forty hours on audio. Reading this book feels like it’s compressed the last twenty years of polarized political conflict into a forty-hour long disaster film. It’s intense.

Markley uses a large cast of characters to dramatize how people on the left and right will battle for control over the next five U.S. presidential election cycles. Most of the story involves two groups of characters, those working within the political system, and those who decidedly don’t. Markley portrays an ultrasecret ecoterrorist group that works to force change by violent acts versus a dedicated group of political wonks that labor in Washington to influence both parties. Dynamic women characters lead both groups. (By the way, I disliked both women. The only character I cared about was a drug addict in Ohio, who Markley uses as a kind of everyman.)

To further spice up the story, Markley explores the growing power of computer surveillance, artificial intelligence, privacy, and how everyone can be tracked.

I’m not going to review the details of The Deluge because I want to use my reading experience to talk about a specific response to reading the book. I’ll link major book reviews at the end in case you’re considering reading the book. I can say liberals will be terrified by the conservatives in this story, and conservatives will by horrified by these fictional liberals.

The Deluge is about climate change. We could have solved that problem by now if we had acted promptly twenty years ago. The government could have added a tax on all fossil fuels and then raised it slowly month by month. For example, by adding ten cents to the federal tax on gasoline each month. If we had started this in the year 2000, gasoline would be approaching $30 a gallon today. That would have forced people and corporations to make the changes needed.

That tax revenue could have been used to overhaul the power grid and for developing renewable energy technologies. If we had taxed carbon properly, we wouldn’t be fighting over climate change today. That didn’t happen. It didn’t happen because the people who owned trillions of dollars in fossil fuel reserves made sure it didn’t happen. They built a political and religious coalition to fight with them to protect that wealth.

All that’s beside the point now. What Markley envisions is the breakdown of the United States over the next sixteen years so it’s obvious to all we need to do something. The Deluge includes dramatic scenes of a massive fire that destroys Los Angeles, a massive flood that overwhelms the Midwest, and a massive hurricane that devastates east coast states. These events caused the insurance industry to collapse, leading to economic chaos. Markley doesn’t overplay all this. His fictional disasters are realistic, only somewhat larger than what we’ve already experienced, killing just hundreds or a few thousand people in each event, but having an enormous impact on politics and the economy.

Reading The Deluge makes readers ask themselves: Will American change soon? But I ask: Can people change at all?

Before reading this novel, I had seen two insightful videos about climate change that ask the same questions. The first video makes a careful case saying people don’t change and if there is a solution for avoiding climate change it must work with the psychology of how people act. The second video summarizes the first video with impressive summations of it and this tweet. (I wish I could summarize what I watch and read this well.)

Over the two hundred thousand years that our species have existed on this planet, we haven’t changed. Our societies and technologies change, but not us. Over those two hundred thousand years we have developed four major cognitive tools to understand reality: religion, philosophy, mathematics, and science. Only science using mathematics has consistently proven it can consistently describe reality. If you don’t believe that I wouldn’t fly in an airplane.

Science is not black and white. It’s statistical and hard to understand. But science has overwhelmingly shown that adding more CO2 to the atmosphere is turning up the temperature. The parts per million of CO2 in the air acts like a thermostat. Add more CO2 turns up the temperature. The only way to return to the weather we liked in the past is to return to the CO2 levels of the 1960s, but we keep adding more. The only way to stop adding CO2 is to completely stop using fossil fuels. And if we want to turn down the thermostat, we need to remove CO2, which isn’t easy. That’s why taxing carbon is the only way to force us to change, but we won’t do that, because it’s not in our psychology.

However, The Deluge suggests when things get bad enough, we’ll change. It ends hopefully. People even have hope for their children and grandchildren.

Personally, I don’t think we will change. If you want to know what the next sixteen years could be like, read The Deluge. If you believe people can change, and we’ll do the right thing eventually, read The Deluge. If you don’t believe we’ll change, I wouldn’t bother with the book unless you like looking at train wrecks. And if you suffer from depression, I suggest avoiding reading this novel at all costs. I seldom get even the slightest depressed, but this book bummed me out.

Reviews:

JWH

A Painful Challenge to My Ego

James Wallace Harris, 2/26/24

I’m hitting a new cognitive barrier that stops me cold. It’s making me doubt myself. I’ve been watching several YouTubers report on the latest news in artificial intelligence and I’ve been amazed by their ability to understand and summarize a great amount complex information. I want to understand the same information and summarize it too, but I can’t. Struggling to do so wounds my ego.

This experience is forcing me to contemplate my decaying cognitive abilities. I had a similar shock ten years ago when I retired. I was sixty-two and training a woman in her twenties to take over my job. She blew my mind by absorbing the information I gave her as fast as I could tell her. One reason I chose to retire early is because I couldn’t learn the new programming language, framework, and IDE that our IT department was making standard. That young woman was learning my servers and old programs in a language she didn’t know at a speed that shocked and awed me. My ego figured something was up, even then, when it was obvious this young woman could think several times faster than I could. I realized that’s what getting old meant.

I feel like a little aquarium fish that keeps bumping into an invisible barrier. My Zen realization is I’ve been put in a smaller tank. I need to map the territory and learn how to live with my new limitations. Of course, my ego still wants to maximize what I can do within those limits.

I remember as my mother got older, my sister and I had to decide when and where she could drive because she wouldn’t limit herself for her own safety. Eventually, my sister and I had to take her car away. I’m starting to realize that I can’t write about certain ideas because I can’t comprehend them. Will I always have the self-awareness to know what I can comprehend and what I can’t?

This makes me think of Joe Biden and Donald Trump. Both are older than I am. Does Biden realize what he’s forgotten? Does Trump even understand he can’t possibly know everything he thinks he knows? Neither guy wants to give up because of their egos.

So, what am I not seeing about myself? I’m reminded of Charlie Gordon in the story “Flowers for Algernon,” when Charlie was in his intellectual decline phase.

Are there tools we could use to measure our own decline? Well, that’s a topic for another essay, but I believe blogging might be one such tool.

JWH