The Obstacles to Knowing, Part 4: Complexity

And then there is the problem of complexity.  The earth’s interior, atmosphere, oceans, and life interact with one another and with the sun’s energy and with a host of cosmic influences in a probabilistic stew that is far beyond our mathematical reckonings. Each is a system with its own complex behaviors, as are humans (and scaling up), organizations, societies, civilization, and the biosphere. So complex is the world we inhabit that we cannot predict with certainty even the behavior of one single human being, or the exact motions of one single electron in orbit about its atom. Never mind trying to predict matters comprising as many variables as global warming, Middle East relations, or the fate of food resources. Science has quantitatively confirmed the adage that the whole is combinatorially greater than the sum of its parts. 

Cause and effect, we find, is rarely related in a simple, linear way.  A little more input does not always translate into a little more output. The laws of the universe are not simple linear equations written by some simplistic God. They are complex formulas with innumerable variables working in many dimensions, simultaneously influencing and influenced by innumerable other variables, and continually feeding back upon each other at varying rates. Properties emerge from these interactions that are far beyond our predictive powers. Nothing that we know about the explosive properties of hydrogen or the flammable characteristics of oxygen would allow us to predict that, when coming together, these two elements produce the miracle molecule, water.  How less percipient are we about the ways in which the earth’s geochemical processes interact with the millions of living species and that little emergent property, human consciousness. What a mix that is. How do we react, for instance, when oil becomes too expensive to even drill, or when economic globalism sputters and stalls, or when famine strikes our homeland? The historian Niall Ferguson reminds us, “When things go wrong in a complex system, the scale of the disruption is nearly impossible to anticipate. There is no such thing as a typical or average forest fire, for example.”[i]

To make matters more difficult for us, these nonlinear laws of nature have what are referred to as tipping points or thresholds.  Reach these points in the calculus of our behavior and suddenly the universe seems to run by a whole new set of equations. Natural gas may leak from a kitchen stove and nothing happens when one lights a match. Strike it again thirty minutes later and the whole house explodes. In this system, a threshold was reached with the variables of methane, oxygen, space, time, and energy (the flame). Or take the much-maligned postal worker who for years tolerates the injustices, stresses, and humility of his job until one day he cannot bear them any longer and, with seemingly little provocation, he shoots several coworkers.  Or, similarly at another level, population pressures, drought, economic crisis, and a hundred years of colonial and African history between Tutsis, Hutus, Germans, Belgians, and the French in Rwanda suddenly exploded around 8:20 p.m. on April 6, 1994 when a private plane carrying the Rwandan president Juvénal Habyarimana was shot down by two surface-to-air missiles, triggering a mass homicide where eight hundred-thousand people were slaughtered within the space of a few months.[ii] Or tensions fester between Iraq and Kuwait over oil fields along their common border until a threshold is reached in 1990, and Iraq invades Kuwait, which then releases an invasion from other interested players. Or the Soviet Union endures the contradictions of its system and the adversities of the 20th century for seventy plus years, and then, in relatively easy times, suddenly implodes. Or stars like our sun enjoy long lives of relative stability until the moment that the hydrogen fusion process drops below some threshold value and the star collapses, marking the start of its death cycle and the likely end of any remaining life on earth.

Today, the most consistent scientific warnings about a threshold concerns global warming. Four hypothetical tipping points related to Earth’s continued warming this century include the sudden collapse of the Gulf Stream, a runaway collapse of the Amazon rain forest, a mega-release of methane from the tundras and sea floor, or a rapid unraveling of the ocean ecosystems due to a geologically unprecedented acceleration of ocean warming and acidification.[iii] Involving the whole planet, living and nonliving, the incremental increases of trapped solar energy in our atmosphere, lands, and oceans include so many variables feeding back upon each other that it makes Poincare's insolvable three body problem look like simple algebra.[iv] Simply put, it is too complex.

However, we have witnessed the tipping point effects of our behavior on a smaller scale: (1) The sudden re-emergence of diseases such as cholera, the expansion of malaria and chikungunya due to globalized transportation and weather and climate changes, and the emergence of new diseases such as AIDs and Ebola from once remote jungles, (2) Cultural eutrophication of fresh water lakes and the rising frequency, number, and size of dead zones in coastal ecosystems, (3) Sudden fishery collapses in the oceans due to over-fishing, (4) Loss of local species due to the introduction of alien organisms, and (5) Localized climate changes caught in a positive feedback cycle, where, for instance, decreasing rainfall reduces forest plant mass, which decreases the evapotranspiration into the atmosphere, which decreases the water available for clouds and rain, leading to further deforestation. These examples are taken from the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment's (2005) Ecosystems and Human Well-being: Synthesis. In example (2), cultural or anthropogenic eutrophication is a highly accelerated version of a natural process affecting freshwater lakes.  Excess nutrients from chemical fertilizers, principally, wash from rivers into large bodies of water and stimulate excessive plant growth (called algal blooms). When these plants die, the bacterial decomposers that feed on the plants experience a population explosion, depleting dissolved oxygen levels (this is called hypoxia or anoxia, depending on the severity).  All the other organisms either flee the area or suffocate and die. When this process occurs along the coasts, the usually biologic-rich waters are turned into “dead zones.”[vi] Worldwide, there are now some four hundred dead zones. The one in the Gulf of Mexico—the sink for the Mississippi River—is reputed to be as large as the state of New Jersey and lasts for eight months at a time. In example 5), evapotranspiration refers to the process by which water is evaporated from lakes, soil, etc. and is transpired from trees. On a hot day, a large tree can transpire as much as 100 gallons of water from its leaves into the atmosphere.  The Smoky Mountains in the Southern Appalachian Mountains derive their name from the blue haze one sees over them, the visual effect caused by the millions of tons of water being transpired from all the leaves of the trees on a summer day.[vii]

Could it be that the many breakdowns of local ecosystems is a symptom of a larger-scale unraveling of Earth’s biospheric ecosystem? Is humanity nearing some planetary tipping point?  Or, is the Earth actually far more resilient and our species far less potent than we imagine? 

 The complexity of nature’s seemingly infinite number of systems, of their interactions, and of threshold events will create a future as unpredictable as any history has ever offered. Since the 1970s at least, scientists have correctly projected, from past and existing events, the continued increase of the human population, of the global economy, energy use, and CO2 emissions; the continuing destruction of rainforests, farmland, and coral reefs; and the crises of extinctions, clean water, and climate change.[viii] And they got plenty wrong as well.[ix] In a 1962 article in the journal Science, Raymond Bouillenne correctly projected that there would be six billion people worldwide in 2000, but badly miscalculated the Russian population when he predicted that, “In 1990 there will be 400 million Russians.”[x] As it turned out, by 1990 there were less than 300 million people living in the Soviet Union, and only about half of them were Russians. The Russian population has been dropping ever since. “People predicted the fall of the Chinese Communist Party in 1989, and it didn’t happen… People did not predict the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, and it did happen…”[xi] Robert Malthus famously predicted in 1798—about the time that the world population was hitting its first billion mark—that, due to agricultural limits, population could not increase much more. There are seven billion of us now, and counting. And in 1968, the biologist Paul Ehrlich proclaimed that, “The battle to feed all of humanity is over. In the 1970s hundreds of millions of people will starve to death in spite of any crash programs embarked upon now. At this late date nothing can prevent a substantial increase in the world death rate ...”[xii] And no, that did not happen either.

Complexity makes specifics difficult to predict, but the general reality to which Civilization is tending, the “attractors” in the language of dynamical systems theory, can be outlined.[xiii] Very likely, droughts and heat waves will destroy crops in the coming decades and people will continue to go hungry. Far more risky to predict is where, when and how destructive the events, and who specifically will suffer.

 

[i] Ferguson (2010, March/April).

[ii] Diamond, J. (2005), Boudreaux (2009), Gourevitch (2009), Jolis (2010), Snow (2014). 

[iii] Flannery (2005) Holthaus, E. (2015, August 5) The Point of No Return: Climate Change Nightmares Are Already Here. Rolling Stone.

[iv] In 1887, Oscar II, King of Sweden, in honor of his sixtieth birthday, sponsored a mathematical competition. Henri Poincaré, a Frenchman, won the contest with a paper concluding that the interactions of even just three astronomical bodies could not be exactly solved. Since present positions depend on initial conditions that may be below the sensitivity of the measurements, predictions can be greatly in error and appear “chaotic.”  At that point, the science of complexity is said to have been born.  Since then, science has, in great part, gone from trying to discover nature’s fundamental and simple laws to modeling the complex interactions of nature’s many variables.

[vi] (Malakoff, 1998; Vance, 2001; Ferber, 2004; Sverdrup et al, 2005).

[vii] (Welch, 2002).

[viii] Ehrlich (1967), Meadows et al. (1972, 2004), Holdren and Ehrlich (1974), Catton (1982), Pimentel et al. (1973, 1992, 1995, 1997), Kendall and Pimentel (1994), Daily et al. (1998), Postel (1997, 1998, 1999).

[ix] For the many predictions scientists have gotten wrong, read Maurice and Smithson (1984) or Baily (1993), or a concise version in www.reason.com/rb/rb020404.shtml.  Included are predictions of mineral exhaustion, projected high oil prices, population explosions and crashes, famines and species extinctions.

[x] Bouillenne (1962).

[xi] Fallows (2011).

[xii] Ehrlich (1968:xi).

[xiii] For example, Eckmann and Ruelle (1985), IPCC (2014).

 

[i] Ferguson (2010, March/April).

[ii] Diamond, J. (2005), Boudreaux (2009), Gourevitch (2009), Jolis (2010), Snow (2014). 

[iii] Flannery (2005) Holthaus, E. (2015, August 5) The Point of No Return: Climate Change Nightmares Are Already Here. Rolling Stone.

[iv] In 1887, Oscar II, King of Sweden, in honor of his sixtieth birthday, sponsored a mathematical competition. Henri Poincaré, a Frenchman, won the contest with a paper concluding that the interactions of even just three astronomical bodies could not be exactly solved. Since present positions depend on initial conditions that may be below the sensitivity of the measurements, predictions can be greatly in error and appear “chaotic.”  At that point, the science of complexity is said to have been born.  Since then, science has, in great part, gone from trying to discover nature’s fundamental and simple laws to modeling the complex interactions of nature’s many variables.

[v]  However, we have witnessed the tipping point effects of our behavior on a smaller scale: (1) The sudden re-emergence of diseases such as cholera, the expansion of malaria and chikungunya due to globalized transportation and weather and climate changes, and the emergence of new diseases such as AIDs and Ebola from once remote jungles, (2) Cultural eutrophication of fresh water lakes and the rising frequency, number, and size of dead zones in coastal ecosystems, (3) Sudden fishery collapses in the oceans due to over-fishing, (4) Loss of local species due to the introduction of alien organisms, and (5) Localized climate changes caught in a positive feedback cycle, where, for instance, decreasing rainfall reduces forest plant mass, which decreases the evapotranspiration into the atmosphere, which decreases the water available for clouds and rain, leading to further deforestation. These examples are taken from the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment's (2005) Ecosystems and Human Well-being: Synthesis. In example (2), cultural or anthropogenic eutrophication is a highly accelerated version of a natural process affecting freshwater lakes.  Excess nutrients from chemical fertilizers, principally, wash from rivers into large bodies of water, stimulating excessive plant growth (called algal blooms). When these plants die, the bacterial decomposers that feed on the plants experience a population explosion, depleting dissolved oxygen levels (this is called hypoxia or anoxia, depending on the severity).  All the other organisms either flee the area or suffocate and die. When this process occurs along the coasts, the usually biologic-rich waters are turned into “dead zones” (Malakoff, 1998; Vance, 2001; Ferber, 2004; Sverdrup et al, 2005). Worldwide, there are now some four hundred dead zones. The one in the Gulf of Mexico—the sink for the Mississippi River—is reputed to be as large as the state of New Jersey and lasts for eight months at a time. In example 5), evapotranspiration refers to the process by which water is evaporated from lakes, soil, etc. and is transpired from trees. On a hot day, a large tree can transpire as much as 100 gallons of water from its leaves into the atmosphere.  The Smoky Mountains in the Southern Appalachian Mountains derive their name from the blue haze one sees over them, the visual effect caused by the millions of tons of water being transpired from all the leaves of the trees on a summer day (Welch, 2002).

[vi] (Malakoff, 1998; Vance, 2001; Ferber, 2004; Sverdrup et al, 2005).

[vii] (Welch, 2002).

[viii] Ehrlich (1967), Meadows et al. (1972, 2004), Holdren and Ehrlich (1974), Catton (1982), Pimentel et al. (1973, 1992, 1995, 1997), Kendall and Pimentel (1994), Daily et al. (1998), Postel (1997, 1998, 1999).

[ix] For the many predictions scientists have gotten wrong, read Maurice and Smithson (1984) or Baily (1993), or a concise version in www.reason.com/rb/rb020404.shtml.  Included are predictions of mineral exhaustion, projected high oil prices, population explosions and crashes, famines and species extinctions.

[x] Bouillenne (1962).

[xi] Fallows (2011).

Ehrlich (1968:xi).

[xiii] For example, Eckmann and Ruelle (1985), IPCC (2014).

The Obstacles to Knowing, Part 3: Our Biological Limits

Besides pure self-interest, numerous veils cloud our view of reality. The thickest and yet least noticeable veil is our culture, for it creates the ground of our daily reality. It informs us about how to interpret our experiences. It is constantly nudging us toward the consensus reality, “normalizing” our behavior. Two young men holding hands as they walk down the street of a Russian neighborhood risk ridicule or worse. In India the same behavior would not be even noticed, for that is an accepted way for two friends to show their affection. Those whose perceptions are most clouded—that is, most normalized—are often the very people in our culture who serve as our sources of information and who are the most powerful agents in the normalizing of behavior (celebrities, media figures, pundits, academics, etc.). They either knowingly lie and manipulate our information or zealously believe the fallacy themselves. The American people, for example, are still grappling in their hearts and minds with how much the debacle in Iraq was premeditated by powerful interests and abetted by the media and how much was simply a result of well-intentioned ignorance. 

Closely related is the obstacle of our prejudices and how we can get beyond them to be open to information that may counter our most cherished beliefs. A Christian's values about abortion and a Marxist's analysis about the relationship between rich and poor will often color their perceptions about an issue like human overpopulation, so that both will, for different reasons, dismiss the problem, itself, without due consideration. They may see human suffering as a problem of insufficient charity or due to an unequal distribution of resources, but not because people are having too many children. “Blaming the victim” goes against every fiber of their decency, so their minds are closed to the concept of overpopulation. So, for example, Pope Francis’s 2015 Environmental Encyclical, Laudato Si, was—aside from his one short, vague paragraph on population—an otherwise clear and awakened analysis of the human relationship with the environment.  Similarly, an American who drives a gasoline hungry SUV is less likely to be open to—much less concerned about—the abstract links between oil, global warming, the spate of wars in the Middle East, terrorism, and the health of our planet.

Even when everyone is being his and her honest best, truth—or the underlying nature of reality—is often clouded by our own sensory limits. Most facts are invisible to us. How do we know what actually transpired between two dignitaries behind their closed, highly polished doors? And at the level of elemental matter, most of existence transpires at sizes, distances, and speeds far beyond our awareness. Some phenomena such as global warming are so subtle that we are personally oblivious to them. The temperature changes of a century are more gradual and far smaller than even the fluctuations in a day. And yet it is at the limits of these ranges where the environment to which we must adapt comes into being and transpires—at the scales of genes, atoms, and electromagnetic waves, or at the other end, of melting glaciers and the time scale of centuries. It is at these invisible velocities and sizes that much of reality functions. 

The Obstacles to Knowing, Part 2: Paradox

Reality often asks us to hold two or more seemingly contradictory concepts simultaneously. We may, for instance, be asked to understand how a person can be both too poor to buy food and be extremely overweight. Or a wealthy person may accept the link between carbon emissions and Greenland’s melting ice sheets, and be concerned about rising seas because he has beach front property and just because he is the kind of guy that cares, and yet continues to drive his gas guzzlers, go boating on the weekends, cool his big house in the summer, and fly to exotic vacation spots several times a year.

Important and difficult as this first step of accepting paradox may be, reconciling the contrary ideas will require still far more from us yet. Contradiction is often a case not of reality but of perception. Some misconceptions can be easy to amend with a little more information. A poor person may be overweight, we find, because sugary, fat, processed foods are cheap. On the other end of the spectrum, some paradoxes seem intractable. Why, for example, will people of means —no matter how otherwise compassionate and generous— inevitably place home, cars, and careers above human equality and a clean environment. Homelessness and hunger abound, yet, rather than tithe, we will buy the bigger house, the better brand, the family flights to the Caribbean. The resolution of such paradoxes may require a dissolution or even destruction of the boundaries of our beliefs, of our worldview, of the box that culture has created for us. These ventures can feel surprisingly dangerous. Spiritual leaders warn seekers of the dangers of breaking boundaries too quickly and without guidance. At the very least, it can cause a person to experience temporary cognitive, emotional, and existential dissonance. When, for example, the American elite had to reconcile their decision to attack Iraq and the resulting three trillion dollar war with the reality that, cruel a dictator as Saddam Hussein was, he was not an enemy of the security or sovereignty of the United States. Or when my friend realized that he was morally obligated to change his big American lifestyle, although his expensive education, decades of hard work, high paying salary, and family expectations encouraged, indeed compelled, him to tow the party line and enjoy his successes, serving as a role model for the rest of us.

On the societal scale, epiphanies can lead to revolution. What if, for instance, we collectively came to the realization that all evidence clearly indicates that the only way humanity could possibly live sustainably on the planet was by reducing our population by two-thirds within a generation, and that all the remaining two-and-a-half billion people had to immediately reduce their standard of living to, say, an average $11,000 a year? This would require some sacrifice of material and biologic desires on most every one of us.  Now, we are not persistently altruistic creatures, but neither are we totally selfish ones. If given the chance, most of us will behave in ways that are honest, compassionate, and reasonable.  But would we be willing to sacrifice the biological imperative of parenthood and the pleasure of our large lifestyles for the security of future generations? The more we had to lose in such a radical transformation, the more resistant we would likely be. If history and experience can serve as guides, neither the captains of finance and industry, nor the oligarchs, nor the leaders of nations are going to voluntarily give up their wealth and power. And likely neither will the merely affluent; that is, the world’s materially richest billion or so—that’s us, by the way. Actually resolving paradox sometimes requires a transformation of thought and action that can be sadly beyond our capabilities. Material self-interest alone can hold us back from taking even the most obviously necessary and simple of actions. 

The Obstacles to Knowing, Part 1: One’s Certainty

We live in an age of uncertainty, for certainty and the sort of clarity we are demanding to answer the big questions are exactly what both twentieth century philosophy and our contemporary world have so brilliantly and utterly destroyed. Starting with Nietzsche prior to that century's beginning and hammered home by the particle physicists and by the Modernist and Postmodernist philosophers, the intellectual and artistic leaders of humanity have demonstrated that the objective truth about anything is elusive, at best.

Western philosophy — particularly since the Enlightenment when science woke up from its slumbers — has always concerned itself with the limits of certainty.  In his 1748 work An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, David Hume destroyed the logics of certainty by demonstrating that something—such as the rising of the sun—that occurs a thousand times in a row, will not necessarily occur the thousand and first time. Later, Kant suggested that the universe (and our neural wiring) may be so structured that an ultimate understanding of the universe is beyond our capabilities (the language here is mine, not his).  Nietzsche’s 1887 On the Genealogy of Morals destroyed our certainty regarding morals, by — for example — defining the teachings of Christ and Buddha as slave moralities.  What many billions of the world read as the greatest of wisdom, he found to be highly unusual cases wherein the losers of the world decided morality.  Later, Freud’s explorations into the unconscious showed us that what we accept as causes for our behavior are but the tip of a vast, largely hidden, mass of motivations.  In the early twentieth century, Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle and Einstein’s Theory of Relativity demonstrated that, in the realms of the very small and the very big, reality works in ways completely counter to our reason and intuition, which were, after all, adaptations to the physics of a Newtonian middle world.  In 1931, Gödel showed that no finite language such as mathematics could prove all truths.  That is, mathematics will always remain incomplete.  Similarly, Wittgenstein argued that, by constraining the possibilities of thought, language limits our worldview. 

Lyotard (in his books published in 1979 and 1992) argued that since at least World War II, the grand meta-narratives with their conceit of universal explanatory power (such as Aryan superiority, Christian salvation, Marxist emancipation, Scientific truth) have lost their legitimacy. Their faithful will continue to believe, of course, but most reasonable people will either abandon the meta-narrative entirely or adopt a more nuanced version, not necessarily as the universal truth but for more pragmatic reasons, such as they serve their purpose under certain circumstances (Science is useful in designing refrigerators and bombers, Christianity can provide a moral compass, etc.).

Science was forced to quit asking what was truth, and, to instead, pursue what works.  Then, as the 20th century proceeded, science, travel, and communication technology brought us an explosion of information from all over the world.  It quickly became clear that there was no consensus on the interpretation of even a work of art or literature, much less an agreement about something as meaningful as absolute reality.  Artists as diverse as Picasso, John Cage, Madonna, George Lucas, and Garcia Marquez no longer relied on old notions of truth, but rather created their own rules, perspectives, and virtual worlds.  Atheist, Christian, and Taoist request equal tolerance for their beliefs. It is in the context of this pluralistic world — this democracy of worldviews — that we must now cobble together enough reliable data to convince enough of us that the sum of human activities is either sustainable or not sustainable.

And so, many of us — some significant minority of the world — no longer believe the details of the mythologies (of meta-narratives, in the language of postmodernists) that were handed down to us by our society’s authorities through the generations.

In a mythology, there needs to be no validation from outside sources. A believer believes for the very reason that everyone else around him believes. It is inconsequential to him that other cultures, research, experiences, and logic do not substantiate or, indeed, may even vehemently oppose specifics of the mythology. Believers are closed to any information that goes against their mythology. Many hundreds of millions of us have evolved to a place where we now transcend mythology and superstition, accepting reason verified by experience as a superior way of apprehending reality. We do not eschew mythology, or the voices of authorities, for that matter.  We consider them as other lenses in which to understand reality and then we integrate them into our perspective. And in the near future, we may follow those who have transcended reason for other even more powerful (trans-logical) ways of understanding reality. We will then include and integrate reason into that broader, deeper perspective. 

The Mystic and the Magician

In Jethro Tull’s song Thick as a Brick, Ian Anderson wrote “The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other.” My friend, the doer, the entrepreneur and builder, tends to be an optimistic soul, singing the successes of president Obama and of the promises of solar power that are just around the corner. I come off pessimistic in our discussions, finding Obama’s revolving door policy a sign of his loyalty to the oligarchy and solar power a way for the affluent billion to keep the lights on in their houses and the fuel in their travels. Although the intersection of the Venn Diagrams of our paradigms is large, we seem irreconcilably at odds in these moments.

Of course, we also understand that these are not cases of either/or. Our disagreements are due to differing perspectives. I am a thinker, a mystic. I want to know the truth of the matter. Beliefs, I find, create the limits to our possibilities.  They are the sides of the box that we will need to think ourselves out of.  As soon as we believe something we have just created the next box we will have to “think” our way out of. To get the truth of the matter, we need to eschew beliefs.

My friend, on the other hand, is a doer, a magician. To act, to engage with this world and to change it in a way that we deem better, then belief, we will find, is an incredibly powerful ally. Belief focuses our attention onto the direction of our path.  Our efforts are more efficient and effective. Without belief, we are standing still in the complexity of existence, trying to make sense of paradox, of apparent dualism, discerning patterns in the chaos. Belief gives us the kind of certainty we need to be passionate about our course of action, granting us confidence in the face of adversity and resolve when feeling frustrated. It helps us get up out of bed in the morning to fight the good fight; it fuels our discipline and good habits.

My friend sees the glass half full. I see the glass half empty. The truth is that the glass is both half full and half empty. He is, by his nature, a very thoughtful person who acts in the world. He is a magician. I am a person who acts in the world and yet spends far more time in contemplation. I am more a mystic. I see the problems. He sees the solutions. I am the one who sees the problems with his solutions. He is the one who then refines his solutions. The do-er and the thinker, the magician and the mystic, the optimist and the pessimist: these are dualisms that can become lovingly resolved in the real.