Why it’s good to be human
On the plus side, our kind of animal is outstanding at reshaping and rebuilding the world around us to make the challenges we face as individuals and as a species as humdrum, predictable, and hence as manageable as possible.
Poets, playwrights, philosophers, and scientists may debate the particulars of human motives and intentions, but there is no denying one of the reasons we spend so much time and effort at redoing the conditions under which we live out our days on earth. The more predictable a situation or event is, the easier it is for our brain to cope with it. And if need be, respond more or less appropriately.
I also argued in the previous post that to avoid becoming overwhelmed by what our body’s senses—classically said to be five in number—are telling us about the state of things and events both inside and outside our skin, our brain ignores much of what it is being told. Instead it mostly relies on the pragmatic strategy of simplifying what it is hearing, both literally and figuratively, by mentally putting things, people, and experiences into separate and seemingly distinct mind boxes—into different categories.
However, there is a fine line between paying too much attention to what our senses are telling us, and too little. (I like to call this the Goldilocks Line after the 19th century children’s story). Failing to pay sufficient attention to what’s happening inside or outside our body can be disastrous, as anyone who has survived the experience can tell us about why they shouldn’t have been texting while driving.
Why it’s bad to be human
As my mother so often liked to say, things can be both good and bad at the same time. However pragmatic and unintentionally self-centered we are as individuals for understandable evolutionary and psychological reasons, the dark side of our human ways cannot be denied.
I wasn’t being cynical in the previous post, therefore, when I remarked that truth may not be as appealing and important—that is, as useful—to us as human beings as the immediate and pragmatic benefits of things and events (and people, too) that are easy, convenient, and predictable.
However, taking the easy way out, the easy answer, the easy job, and so forth can be costly down the road—sometimes sooner rather than later. Doing so can make it difficult for us to notice and pay enough attention to how things, people, and experiences are linked, intertwined, and interrelated. Said more formally, what I called previously “categorical thinking” can lead to “categorical mistakes.”
The power of words
According to more than just a few of us, life’s big question is Why am I here? Others instead see How come I am here? as the mystery to be solved. Conventionally, people turn to theologians, philosophers, psychologists, and their best friends when they are seeking answers to the first question. The second one falls more in the thoughtful arena of pediatricians, scientists, cosmologists, mystics, and priests.
This division of labor, however, is not absolute, and is certainly not as categorical as such a divide implies. One common thread crossing between these two realms of expertise is the belief or assumption—sometimes up front, sometimes only lurking in the background—that words are both powerful and are usually grounded in reality except, of course, when someone is “making things up” that they know are untrue.
The belief that words can be both truthful and powerful—that by naming things we are not just “putting into words” something already “out there” in the world, but can create something new as if “out of nothing”—is deeply rooted in the antiquity of our species. A classic example would be invoking the word abracadabra during a magic show to lend apparent substance to some clever illusion. But the roots of seeing words as powerfully creative run deeper than this trivial example.
For instance, consider the opening words of the Book of Genesis in the Hebrew Bible and Old Testament:
IN THE BEGINNING God created the heaven and the earth. 2 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. 3 And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. 4 And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. 5 And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.
In my first post I said that I am writing this series about dynamic network analysis because I want to explore with you how a different way of thinking about the world and our place in it can make it easier for us to see and make something out of how widely and how often critically things, people, and events are not separate and distinct in neat categorical ways, but instead are interwoven into relationships that make the whole totality of them, as the saying goes, bigger than the sum of the parts. Since what I want to write about, however, is complicated, I need to proceed step by step.
The next step in this second post is a brief quiz I’d like you to take before we move on to take a closer look in Post #3 at what is called network analysis.
Quiz: How good are you at thinking outside the category?
Please take a piece of printer paper and draw a line down the middle from top to bottom. Near the top of the left-hand column, write the word categorical. Do the same for the right column, except make the word relational. Then write in items under these two headings matching those shown here. Note that the last two rows are blank. In a moment I will be asking what you would add in these two bottom rows resonating with the rows above them.
Here’s the question I want to ask: What makes the items in the right-hand column different from those in the left-hand column? Yes, it is OK to use Google if some of the items seem obscure. And yes, this is a categorical question for sure.
The answers I am looking for
There are many ways to talk about the items in the left-hand column. #1-2 are often viewed nowadays as wasteful single-use items that pollute the environment; #3 is a famous writer who rejected the virtues of altruism, praised individual rights, and is seen by many as a prophet of selfishness; #4 is an organization dedicated to protecting the rights of individual gun owners; #5 is the day each year when a given individual was born; #6 refers to the belief that all things can be boiled down to singular, individual particles called atoms.
In contrast, paper bags and paper straws are being promoted today as more environmentally friendly than their counterparts in the left column. #3 could be described as the high priest of the relativity rather than the individuality of things in the universe. Without trying to pin them down, the remaining three items are similarly all about things, events, and species that are enmeshed with one another.
Now here’s your job. What would you write in the blank rows at the end of this table? For instance, I myself would be tempted to write in one of these rows the card game solitaire vs. the team sport of boat racing.
What’s the point I am trying to make?
In the first post in this series, I observed that for entirely understandable reasons each of us is by nature self-centered. Saying this, however, does not have to mean we are also inherently selfish despite the fact that jumping to such a conclusion is unfortunately fairly commonplace even in scholarly circles.
As we will be exploring in this series, Ayn Rand and others both before and since have been misguided to believe otherwise. The continuing popularity of Rand’s ideas only shows that words can be powerful at least in the limited yet dangerous sense that they can be used to persuade us about what’s real and what’s unreal in the world of yesterday, today, and tomorrow without actual proof.
This is precisely why we need ways of getting outside our heads and dealing directly with the world that force us to “think outside the category.” Why? Because we need ways to confront our hasty impressions, deep-seated desires, wishes, and wants so that we can avoid errors in judgment, however innocent, that tragically can result in the desecration of the world we live in—and if we are not careful, our own extinction as a species.
This is Part 2 of a continuing series of posts on dynamic network analysis. Next up: 3. Connecting the dots.
© 2018 John Edward Terrell. This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License, which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author(s) and source are credited. The statements and opinions expressed are those of the author(s) and do not constitute official statements or positions of the Editors and others associated with SCIENCE DIALOGUES.