Short versus long term

I think a lot about the short vs. the long term. Long term consciousness is probably the most importance difference between us and other animals. Of course (to paraphrase Darwin), it is a difference of degree, not essence, but still, the difference is quite striking: we are capable of thinking in terms of geological time, while most other members of the animal kingdom with similar life-spans probably don't get further than the concept of seasons. 

Apparently, newly born babies start with no concept of time whatsoever, but as they grow, they learn to handle ever-increasing time spans. My eldest - now eight - has no trouble imagining things happening years from now, including having children of her own. And human  society as a whole has shown a similar sort of development: collectively, we become more conscious of the long term with every new generation. The acceptance of the theory of evolution is just one of many examples, as are the idea that we might want to preserve our cultural history, and our current concern with climate change: all indicate that collectively, we are thinking in ever-longer time spans.  

Emotions are a bit different. Emotional development also passes through phases in individual humans and in society as a whole, but as compared to the above-mentioned examples of commonplace long-term thinking, emotions are short-term. They can be useful as short-term aids to survival (think fight-or-flight responses), but they can also get in the way of our long-term collective interests. Which is why we tend to see emotions as something to keep in check. 

Seen in Darwinian terms, we could see this process as the competition between two different systems designed to do the same thing (processing stimuli and formulating a response). And according to Darwin, the winner will be the more adaptable of the two. So kudos to the nervous system with its rapid-fire electrical signals, and a booby prize to hormones. (Sad, but logical.)

 

Coffee machines

I have what you might call an addictive personality. I started smoking when I was seventeen, and I only stopped sixteen years and many tens of thousands of cigarettes later (and that more or less by accident - but I'll save that for another blog). During that same period I also drank quite a bit. The other day I saw a program in which a Motown mogul asked a sample audience whether they would spend their last money on a sandwich or on the single they had just heard. Some years ago, in my case, my answer might have been on a drink. 

Nowadays, I go for the socially much more acceptable addictions of coffee and chocolate. Now the reason that coffee and chocolate are more acceptable is that the side effects are much less harmful for society, and for the addict as well. Although ... (and this is why I am writing about this) ... this morning, rushed and stressed, I decided to get coffee from the machine instead of going down to the cafeteria. The machine I got it from has the bad habit of dispensing a plastic spoon into the cup before the coffee. Six times out of ten, however, the spoon misses the cup and slips through the grill underneath, where it lies with other such spoons like so many bones in a graveyard. And two times out of ten it lands in such a way as to obstruct the cup from taking it rightful place on the grill, leaving it askew and incapable of receiving the much-desired black goo that subsequently dissolves in the hot water that is then poured on top. That is what happened this morning. And of course - rushed and stressed and with coffee withdrawal symptoms (even if only imagined) as I was - I tried to quickly force the cup into place. My fingers were just in time to deflect most of hot water into the drain below. So in the end I not only did not have any coffee, I had succeeded in hurting my pride as well as my fingers. 

Only goes to show ... 

From Darwin to Dawkins

Today, Darwin's theory, just like Freud's theories, great works of art, and who knows what else, is mostly taken for granted by most people who learnt it in school. Now I am certainly not against standing in awe of great achievements, but personally, I have always found the future more interesting than the past, which in my case means focussing less on the achievement or the person and more on the possible consequences of that achievement. 

In the case of the theory of evolution, the potential is huge. Not so much because of the conclusions he came to, but more as the seed for a new branch of science that I think will have an even more profound effect on us than the truth about our less-than-celestial origins: evolutionary psychology. And the reason I think this is because I think it will allow us to reframe how we see ourselves. In the past, organized religion gave some very good metaphors to help us understand our own nature and how we should act. But their explanations as to why we are the way we are didn't cut the grade, as far as I am concerned. 

Now, in evolution, we have the basic mechanism that in the long run should help explain just about everything we do, because it is all about the survival of our genes (see "The Selfish Gene" by Richard Dawkins). Of course, for our genes to survive, individual human beings have to procreate - which explains why that is first and foremost in the minds of most young adults. And once you have done your duty in that department, you have to give your children a good chance of doing the same - which explains the nesting instinct, our obsession with money and control, and the lengths we will go to protect our children and other relatives. 

As a species, we have become very successful in "procreating and going forth". So much so, that we have had to change our behaviour just to survive. Modern society no longer tolerates the sort of behaviour that we found completely appropriate only a few thousand years ago. But genes do not change that fast: like legislation, they adapt, but are always several steps behind the actual situation. And that makes me feel a little better about my reactions when some lunatic driver endangers my life and/or that of my family just to shave a few seconds off his ETA.  

Communication overload

The Internet is great, but it can get confusing. I no longer suffer from information overload, because I am quite selective in what I read/watch/listen to. But I am suffer from a still relatively mild case of communication overload. I currently have four different music sites to my name, a couple of videos on YouTube, am member of two different social networks and have, all in all, four different email accounts. None of these sites require much security, but they do all need logons and passwords. Which means I either need a much better memory than I actually have, or I have to write them down somewhere, which is of course not very secure at all. That is one symptom of communication overload. But there are others. 

I have, for example, already had the first case of knowing that I wrote someone an email, and more or less remembering what was in it, but not knowing how I sent it. Was it through Facebook, Myspace, Gmail or my work email? And I have at times been reading the same messages twice or more, because several of my email sites forward messages automatically to my gmail, which then automatically forwards them to my work email. This has only been going on for two weeks now, and already, I realise I am going to have to turn that feature off.  

Which is of course the cure for communication overload: reduce the input to manageable levels. But it is not so easy. If I do turn it off, I risk missing emails that I would normally want to read. I suspect that I might be tempted to log on anyway, just in case. Reminds me of an old Mad magazine cartoon, where one executive is bragging to the other about how "in touch" he is, thanks to modern technology, whereupon the other responds that the real luxury is being able to be out of touch. 

Now, if I could only find my passwords ... 

Mondays

Yesterday was a difficult day. I was thick, I was slow, I was in a bad mood. Discussing it during the coffee break, my colleagues and I came to the conclusion that it was probably due to the full moon, because I was not the only one. Very appropriate for a Monday, too. But unlike with some problems, knowing the possible cause did not seem to make any difference: all day long I was still thick as molasses, and grumpy to boot.

Today should have been better, but it was basically more of the same. So much so, that I have been walking around all day telling people that it was like reliving yesterday all over again. It reminded me of the movie "Groundhog Day", in which the main character (Bill Murray) gets the chance to redo one single day again and again, until he gets it right. A bit like reincarnation, except that he was aware of what was going on. In the end, he learns. For me, I can only hope that tomorrow will be better. But the degree to which the environment can influence how we feel is a sobering thought. And I'm told it only gets worse with age.

The screens in my life

When I was young, I remember the fierce discussion about how much t.v. you should let children watch. Being a child myself, I was of course in favor of letting them watch as much as they want, but I also being at least half-convinced/frightened by the arguments that it would ruin your eyes and rot your brain (if not exactly curve your spine - that was something else). I think the general idea was that you should not sit in front of a screen more than 2-3 hours a day.  

Now, some forty years later, I find myself surrounded by more screens than I (or anyone else) could have ever imagined. At work, I sit in front of a computer screen for at least 5 hours a day. In the evenings, at home, I usually work on one or more of our four computers. I mostly only use the one I am using to write this blog, but there are days when I have three of them on simultaneously, for different things. Then, when I finish whatever it was I needed the computer for (making music, writing a blog, surfing the Internet, checking out friends on one of the various social networks), I go down to the living room to watch t.v., usually for an hour or so. In the weekend, I might also spend some time in the basement, doing simulated sports on - you guessed - yet another screen. All in all, I would say I spend about 7 hours or more in front of a screen each day. Of course, most of those screens are not cathode ray tubes, and as far as I know, no-one has gone blind yet watching t.v.. I am not too worried about the total amount of time spent, other than when it takes away time on other things that they should also be doing. 

But I am worried about the underlying issue, which is how your view of reality may change as a result (or, as some people have put it, how t.v. can rot the brain). I remember how, when I was a student, I once read seven books by the same writer (Jerzy Kozinski) in a single weekend. I was so engrossed I hardly slept. When I finally did leave the house to get something to eat, I was almost run down crossing the road, because the real world no longer seemed very real. 

Of course, this was an extreme case, but I think it is probably similar to what happens when children try to act out what they have seen in a movie, cartoon or computer game: the boundary between real and imaginary has somehow become unclear. For the most part, my children are a lot better in making that distinction than I first expected, but they do sometimes need confirmation ("people can't really fly, can they, daddy?"). And when they do, I am very happy to give it to them!

Is music worthwhile?

The other day I had a somewhat unpleasant conversation with a colleague who stated (with a conviction that seemed to exclude discussion) that music was "just recreation" and therefore "a luxury we can do without". I got quite upset about this, and tried (in vain) to explain my view that music is one of many different ways to cope. To me, the arts fulfill a similar function as dreaming (not in the sense of hoping for something, but in the sense of processing your day while you sleep). Not having the arts would be like sleep depravation, which can lead to insanity quite quickly.

But the discussion did raise an interesting question, namely whether it is really necessary to be active in the arts, or whether a more passive, receptive role is good enough. I think that it is basically a question of personality, and more specifically of the way you learn. I personally only really learn things when I do them myself. Hearing/watching someone explain something, helps, but is only the starting point. I realize that this is not very efficient - I am basically reinventing the wheel again and again - but I don't seem to have much of a choice. 

Learning styles are already well-known (check out, for example, "The Art of the Possible" by Dawna Markova). What I would like to see, is a study on the relationship between between learning styles and other aspects of your personality. Could it be, for example, that my learning style is linked to my difficulty in accepting authority? And if so, is that a result of having been born a close second (a recent Swedish study indicated that on average, first born are much more likely to accept authority than their younger siblings)? If so, it might be possible to find a statistically significant correlation between artistic inclination (though not necessarily talent or skill) and the position in the family. 

All very interesting questions that I cannot answer.  But if anyone has some input on this ...