Category Archives: Philosophy

A casual stroll around philosophy land, usually inspired by late night reading

Ernie and The Secret of Plato’s Cave

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A long time ago in a galaxy sort of near, lived a small rotund creature named Ernie.

Ernie was a happy type of chap.

He would meander through his domain…

… channeling Mr. Rogers with all his friends.

One day though, Ernie came across a dark opening in his world..

Ernie drew closer…

.. and closer …

… and close-

How rude!

Anyway, Ernie finally plucked up the courage to go inside the cave…

Where he witnessed a strange sight!  He saw others of his kind, shackled, facing a blank wall of flickering light.

Ernie noticed with curiosity that they stared fixedly at the shadows cast on the wall..

… and muttered darkly amongst themselves about the images they were seeing.

As Ernie looked on, the strange ones bickered about their world..

… which led Ernie to be a little immature..

Over time though, Ernie started to find it less funny and even a little sad, for it seemed that this world of shadows was all they knew –

Ernie decided it was time for a change!

Little did he know at the time, but as it turns out Ernie had accidentally stumbled across his world’s version of Plato’s Cave.

Ernie was glad to finally leave the cave.... but couldn’t help but muse upon what he had seen.

Years later when asked about his experience with the cave-dwellers, Ernie would smile enigmatically and pronounce:

“Everyone has a cave or den of his own, which refracts and discolours the light of nature…” – Sir Francis Bacon

For more Ernie stories click here!

The Importance of Being Ernie-est

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Once upon a time there lived a small rotund creature named Ernie.

Ernie was a fairly simple soul, and he lived a peaceful and quiet life…

..enjoying many rich friendships along the way.

One day though, Ernie received a letter!

“Dear Ernie”, it read. “We have noticed your interpersonal skills and would like to invite you to join our prestigious organization: the Senate, or the house of sober second thought.”

Ernie felt a rush of pride!  Nobody had ever asked him to be ‘a somebody’ before.

He also felt the stirrings of other strange and new emotions.. perhaps a touch of vanity.. and a small, slight glimmer of greed.

These created some changes in Ernie – he started to stand a little straighter…

.. walk with a hint of a swagger…

.. and found his previous pursuits not quite apropos to his new found status.

Ernie took to curling his tuft of hair into little ringlets…

… and traveling by litter so as to not sully his person with the common folk.

Having a gift for oration, Ernie rose quickly in his new senate position…

.. and soon found himself in high demand…

…with multiple social engagements and societal responsibilities.

Anyway, time passed as it always does…

…and Ernie started to find himself wearying of all the demands on him.

He found himself longing for more simple times..

…and thinking of his old friend Rosebud the bird.

One night Ernie bolted awake: he had an epiphany!He realized that he had given – nay – thrown!  to others freely the only thing he truly had in life – his time!

At that moment, Ernie resolved: no more.  And with that, his spirit rejoiced (and his hair uncurled).

He wasted no more time in saying goodbye to the gilded cage that his ambition, greed, and vanity had created, and ran off into the forest…

.. and lived peacefully – and contentedly – ever after.

Later, when asked about his time in the Senate, Ernie was fond of quoting Seneca, and would say with a small smile: “Sir, when you see a man repeatedly wearing the robe of office, or one whose name is often spoken in the Forum, do not envy him: these things are won at the cost of life.  In order that one year may be dated from their names they will waste all their own years.”

For more Ernie stories click here!

Ernie and the Conquest of Happiness

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A long time ago in a galaxy very very near, there lived a small rotund creature named Ernie.

As you can see, Ernie was a saccharine mix of innocent, playful, and roundly cute. Ernie loved to frolic in the woods with all the birds and the bees (not in that way) and in general his days were full of joy and slightly annoying laughter.

One dark day though, Ernie came across a puzzling creature in the forest: “Bernie”.

Ernie was at a bit of a loss at this odd treatment but chose to interpret it as one would the darker passages of Wagner’s Ring Cycle (which on his planet was known as the Rinse Cycle).  Being a creature of perpetual sweetness and light, Ernie decided to overlook this omen and engage Bernie in friendship.

Despite Bernie’s strange social skills and beanie, Ernie was intrigued by his new friend and sought to cultivate the relationship.

He offered strolls…

He tried shows…

Even the building blocks of life were met with derision.

Anyway, this went on for a while.  As he continued to spend time with Bernie, Ernie noticed something strange was happening.  He started to find himself a little less full of sweetness and light.

In fact, Ernie was also becoming noticeably less rotund, while Bernie, conversely, seemed overly inflated..

He couldn’t quite put his paw on it, but Ernie knew that something was amiss.

One memorable day though, Ernie had a lot of coffee and wine at the same time and experienced an epiphany!

At this very moment, Ernie realized that he had let Bernie become the authoritative downer on how his time should be experienced.  With that realization, Ernie’s joie de vivre instantly expanded to its former rotund proportions – he was free of the tyranny!

Years later, when Ernie was asked about this dark period in his life, he was fond of paraphrasing Bertrand Russell. With a knowing air, Ernie would straighten up and proudly pronounce:

“The person who says he has many dislikes and is disinterested in so many things has given themselves less opportunity to enjoy life.  Conversely, those with many interests have given themselves just that many more opportunities for joy”.

And he lived happily ever after.

For more Ernie stories click here!

Part II: Flow, meaning, and a state of grace

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Woah!! Whaddaya mean you’re not clear on the plot line?

Earlier this month, this blog posted on the idea of optimal experience in life, a state of mind that some have referred to as flow. The concept refers to those times when one is completely absorbed in the moment, whether that occurs when scaling a mountain, drawing a picture, or figuring out an Excel formula (=SUM(no_way!)).

Now, probably the most comprehensive and shared flow experiences occur during childhood, as during play we are completely immersed in the moment and that moment becomes our whole reality.  I mean, what kid is thinking about past or future homework when being chased by a rabid sibling channeling Cujo?

The researcher Mihály Csíkszentmihályi has taken quite an interest in this subject, and his book Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience is a fine read for those wanting to know more.  This post however, concerns itself less with the entirety of the book as opposed to the ending sections, where Csíkszentmihályi touches on the intriguing thought of having an overall architecture or purpose that extends over one’s lifetime.  He argues that the potential for quality moments expand when we identify a consistent purpose to our time here, whatever that purpose may be.

To give a tangible example, in 2005 a documentary was released called “The Real Dirt on Farmer John“.  The great thing about this doc was that the filmmaker (at first by accident and increasingly on purpose) had captured nearly thirty years of footage on his friend John Peterson, an eccentric individual with a single-minded conviction to be a successful farmer.  The film – shot in formats ranging from home video to Super 8 – thus affords a rare vantage point of seeing a story arc unfold over the course of one lifetime.  And because this particular person had a particular purpose he kept coming back to, we could see in technicolour hindsight the multitude of actions, good and bad, light and dark, that contributed to his overall life’s meaning (whether he realized it at the time or not).  And thus, through the highs and lows and the wins and the losses, Farmer John’s life was rich in quality and he lived in a greater state of flow.

In the longer term, defining purpose, whether it’s for part of one’s life or the whole of it, in essence allows us to bootstrap many of our supposed incidental moments.  And these moments, given enough time and knit into a coherent whole, can thereby make up much more than the sum of their parts… much like the coloured bits of glass that, stepping back, make up the stained glass window of our lives.

P.S.  Another take on this phenomena was recently covered by Colby Cosh in his sophisticated piece Artisan chocolate and social revolution, where he muses on the future of work in the context of hipster chocolate and strangely long beards.  Although Cosh’s piece is primarily focused on the revival of artisan goods and craftsmanship as a counter to mass mechanization, i.e. “You had better be prepared to be a distinct individual, to treat your particular line of work as a craft rather than a job, to seek out the style or the method or the niche that no one else is in; nobody’s going to need you to knock out pyramid-style copy on deadline or take trite photos from accident scenes…“, one could argue a byproduct of mastering a craft is actually increased opportunities for a flow state.  Why?  Because mastery of anything fulfills several preconditions for flow (i.e. energized focus, deep involvement, clear goals, etc.).  Given that craftsmanship can take a lifetime to master, this sets up a solid framework for a richly fulfilling occupation… gathering Paradise, so to speak.

Flow, meaning, and a state of grace

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In life there are select moments when external and internal reality syncs perfectly, when ticking time shuts down and one is completely present.  For some, this state of grace may unfold when scaling a mountain (understandable, given that continued existence is delicately tied to that monumental rock!).  For others, these moments might be associated with the creation of music or the joy of painting, or for still others sifting rich loam while planting a garden…  Basically such moments can occur whenever the boundary between you and “not you” dissolves and you find (or lose) yourself in deep involvement with life.

These perfect, engrossing moments are the focus of the book Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience, an interesting read by researcher Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi.  In this treatment, Mihaly C. outlines research on the state of grace he calls “flow” and resulting thoughts on how being in flow profoundly affects the degree of enjoyment and satisfaction with one’s life experiences.  Mihaly C. argues that this flow state is the warp and woof of a rich existence; as individuals that seek and experience flow states create more opportunity for fulfillment regardless of circumstance or the experience in question.

Interestingly, a large section of Mihaly C.’s work focuses on the importance of the autotelic personality as a factor in frequent flow experiences. An autotelic personality is one that is strongly motivated by internal benefit as opposed to external reward, for example, a person that has an internal sense of purpose that is not as influenced by external conditions (i.e. those that happily make lemonade martinis when life gives them lemons).  Probably one of the better known examples of an autotelic personality is Viktor Frankl, the author of Man’s Search for Meaning, and a Dachau concentration camp survivor.  Viktor Frankl’s strong internal drive – or autotelic personality – was a large factor in his survival and triumph over his external environment and offers profound lessons on finding meaning in the darkest of places.

On a more contemporary basis, the recent documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi is a beautiful description of one man’s lifetime dedication to mastering his craft: sushi-making.  It also offers a subtly wrought treatment of another formidable autotelic personality and illuminates a critical aspect to sustaining flow experiences.  As the flow state can be precipitated by taking on tasks that we find challenging, this means that it is important to increase the complexity of these tasks over time as our skills improve (as otherwise the activity becomes meaningless and boring).  In the film, we see Jiro’s passionate yet methodical dedication to elevating the art of sushi-making to new heights over his lifetime, where he dreams day and night of how to improve, how to better, how to create anew…

Essentially, where one man would find drudgery in placing bits of raw fish on rice for 70-some years, another has created an eternally challenging and deeply satisfying flow experience. The film ultimately provides a thoughtful reflection on the art, beauty, and pleasure of mastering a craft to increasing levels of perfection in keeping with the precepts of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and Viktor Frankl.  Similarly, by looking upon our myriad actions as potential flow experiences – no matter how pedestrian or mundane they may seem – we all have the profound opportunity to infuse meaning, purpose, and growth into every moment.

P.S.  Mihaly C. suggests that societies can also influence the opportunity for frequent flow activities, citing examples as in the BaMbuti pygmies.  When not otherwise occupied with hunting or improving their villages, every adult in this society “is expected to be a bit of an actor, singer, artist and historian as well as a skilled worker” which leads Mihaly C. to suggest that “their culture would not be given a high rating in terms of material achievement, but in terms of providing optimal experiences their way of life seems to be extremely successful.”

In a related vein, the New York Times recently published a piece on the merits of being less productive, making the case that our chase after prosperity, productivity, and growth is at the expense of an economy of care, craft and culture. The author posits that far greater well-being and fulfillment would arise from more focus on aspects like craftsmanship and culture, i.e.: “It is the accuracy and detail inherent in crafted goods that endows them with lasting value. It is the time and attention paid by the carpenter, the seamstress and the tailor that makes this detail possible. The same is true of the cultural sector: it is the time spent practicing, rehearsing and performing that gives music, for instance, its enduring appeal. What — aside from meaningless noise — would be gained by asking the New York Philharmonic to play Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony faster and faster each year? “

A sweet little creature

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The problem with traveling is sometimes you fall in love, and that love is usually intense and ephemeral, because someone – eventually – will depart. This time, I fell in love unexpectedly… with a mouse deer.

It all started when I was out in the ancient ruined city of Polonnurawa, Sri Lanka. It was about 7am, sweltering hot, and the BBC documentary film crew was in action trying to incite a confrontation between two toque macaque monkey troops. I was milling about uncertainly at the periphery, feeling a little useless, when I noticed the project lead and a field assistant looking intently at something on the ground. I wandered up, and saw that they were looking at this incredible little creature that was nestled underneath a shrub: a baby mouse deer.

I immediately thought it the cutest animal I had ever seen, and judging by the smiling faces all around, I wasn’t the only one. When it was suggested that I keep an eye on it for a few hours I happily agreed. I was ready to do my part and guard this little guy from danger! As well as see if the mother would return, or if he was well and truly alone in this big world.

I spent the morning sitting on the grass near the mouse deer, gently corralling him when he strayed too far. He was a pretty plucky little guy, not even a half hour had passed when he ventured unsteadily on his tiny legs to see what I was all about before nestling back into the security of his shrub. At one point, a bunch of toque monkeys came close, curious to see what I was looking at.  I instantly picked him up and shielded him – he didn’t struggle or protest and seemed quite content to sit with me afterward. I knew right then that this encounter was something special.

As the mother was still nowhere in sight and the mouse deer was very weak, we decided to bring it to the research camp and see if we could help it live. And that was the beginning of a wonderful relationship.  It took to infant formula after some coaxing, and after a day or two it was starting to nibble on figs, and banana, and even leaves.  What was really amazing was how instantly he connected with people.  Curious, I read up on the mouse deer, discovering it was part of the family chevrotain – well and truly a deer as opposed to mouse, and one of the most ancient mammal species.  Finding a baby is also a rare occurrence, the project lead here hadn’t ever had a mouse deer baby in camp in over 40 years of field work.  In fact, scour the Internet and you’ll find precious little on raising a baby mouse deer.

Despite his rarity, day by day he got stronger and our hopes grew that he would become a wonderful addition to the camp – maybe even a film star for the next BBC shoot! He would take to following me, bouncing around at my feet and coming when called, running across the camp floor and sliding all over the place on his tiny hooves.  As the days passed, I would spend hours watching him, petting him, feeding him, walking with him…  It was a source of – I fully admit – continual joy to open the box every morning and see these bright eyes looking up at me, followed by a tiny u-shaped stretch as I’d bend down to take him out of the box.

Unfortunately, the time we had was cut short.  I had to leave camp for a few days, planning to be back on my birthday.  While I was gone I thought of the mouse deer daily, worrying and hoping that he would be ok during my absence.  Things got complicated when I was gone, and I was asked to delay my return by a day.  I wish so much now that I hadn’t, as my return one day later was to the news that the little mouse deer had died that morning.  He had lived until my birthday like I had hoped for… but like the story of the monkey’s paw, the wish had a flip side, as the day after he tried to jump out of his box and I guess the fall was too much for his delicate body.

When I returned to camp I went to his box sadly and said goodbye, stroking his broken little body.  His spirit was already gone, and there was no trace of the life that had animated such a wonderful creature. I moved his small hooves in the air a bit, and brushed his tail, but under my hands there was only stillness.

Looking back, I had been given the indisputable gift of spending time with an unusual and brave little animal.  Although I’m profoundly grateful for the time I had with him, I wish those bright eyes would have shined on just a little longer.

Why David Eddie’s cool

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Where to, Your Highness?

So, I happen to think that the advice columnist from the Globe & Mail – David Eddie – is a pretty top-notch writer (yes, I’m admitting I read advice columns, ok moving on!!).  Not only that though, he generally gives good advice – warmhearted, empathetic, yet also cuts to the chase when someone’s not being a class act.

For example, last week Mr. Eddie posted a little spiel by somebody who was upset their sister rudely canceled on attending a family dinner party.  The hostess was upset given the amount of work hosting can entail, yet was unsure of how (or if) to convey her displeasure.  Mr. Eddie’s response to this dire social conundrum?  “Well, you know, we advice columnists are always counselling people to take the calm, rational route, adopt the long view, be the better person, and la la la.  But in this case, I think you should let your sister have it, right between the eyes.”

Ha, ha!  Way to go, Mr. Eddie!

But then, he blew the whole kind of trite-advice-on-social-mores thing to a whole other philosophical ballpark by going on to quote: “We teach people how to treat us”.  That pulled me up short.  Now when it comes to small fry things like getting mad at dinner party cancellations and such, of course there are a lot of people that wouldn’t be fazed one whit and go on with their lives (as many of the G&M comments pointed out). However, to me anyway, the quote supersedes its arguably shallow origins because it’s one of those deeper truths – we do teach other people how to treat us.  And that’s the bigger lesson he’s delicately imparting, whether we’re talking about little things or far bigger ones..

So, next time I’m ranting about why so-and-so did or didn’t do x or y, I’m going to take a little look in the proverbial mirror first (but just a short one, as ranting is fun!)

Too much of a good thing?

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I'd like the orange one please...

“These are momentous times for the British potato crisp.”  And that’s the delectable start to “The tyranny of choice: You choose”, a great article that touches on the behaviourial science behind making choices in a world where – doggone it all! –  there are just too many options.

The basic premise to the piece is that the sheer exhaustive number of possibilities that the average North American has at their disposal makes choosing just one, well, paralyzing.  Witness the typical stroll in Shopper’s Drug Mart looking for say… toothpaste.  Who hasn’t been stricken dumb by the options, mouth agape?  i.e. Tartar control!  Whitening!  Natural!  Organic!  Natural AND organic!  With fluoride!  Without fluoride!  Bourbon-flavoured!  Anti-calculus!  (I must have been using this last one my whole life judging by my math grades).

The funny thing is that sometimes, providing more choice can result in no choice at all. A Californian study showed that shoppers, faced with multiple varieties of a product, were much less likely to make a purchase when the number of varieties increased. Moreover, other examples show increased satisfaction when choice was made from smaller selection samples – this was particularly shocking given the sample in question was chocolate.

What does this all mean?  Essentially, too much choice reduces us to a state of torpor, where we’re rendered immobilized and anxiety-ridden all at the same time.  Basically, while some choice is good, this doesn’t mean that more choice is actually better, as expressed by Barry Schwartz in his TED treatise “The Paradox of Choice”.

Psychologically speaking, it seems we’re better wired for a simpler and perhaps more binary type of existence, as opposed to the infinite decision tree that confronts us upon walking out the front door, wallet in hand.  As per one commenter on the site: “I am constantly stressed about taking the wrong choices in life. I wish I had been born a peasant in the middle ages. Tend your field, get married, have kids and die. No social mobility, no options. Easier life. Voila.”

P.S.  The idea of choice overload can be traced back to Aristotle, Ortega, and the French philosopher Jean Buridan, who theorized that an organism faced with the choice of two equally tempting options, such as a donkey between two piles of delicious hay, would delay the choice.  This is sometimes referred to as the problem of “Buridan’s ass”, as the ass, not able to choose between the two, supposedly dies of hunger.  Poor little not so bright guy – he must’ve been using anti-calculus toothpaste too.

Facebook Timeline and the quantified self

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Right there with you, every step of the way

By now, most Facebook users know about the widespread introduction of Timeline, which is an adaptation of the site to share more of its users life through infographics.  Basically the site now takes all the personal data dropped into the Facebook void and knits this into a lifeline that reads like a cross between an illustrated story and an annual report.

The format is largely credited to Nick Felton, the design-uber genius who rose to fame by charting a year of his life in annual report style.  Felton’s approach is impactful, visually appealing, and somewhat provocative as it essentially quantifies life by the numbers, and the supposition is that the numbers you choose to quantify add up to the totality of your life (or, at least the totality of it you want to show publicly).  For example, Felton’s 2011 annual report contains randomness ranging from the number of hours spent at work (2,567.5), to the number of alcoholic beverages consumed (806), to the number of teeth lost by his cat (1).

In a sense, this “quantified-self movement” is somewhat iterative, as one has to ask how many of Felton’s 2,567.5 work hours were spent quantifying those very work hours. (A 1,000?  Perhaps 2,000?)  And how many of those hours were spent quantifying hours spent quantifying?  And so on..

Stepping back, this never-ending virtual solipsism is a pretty bizarre ride we’re on.  It’s as though you were to find yourself standing in between two mirrors, and, turn around as you might, you can’t quite catch a good look at the smaller versions of yourself stretching out into infinity.

P.S. The Walrus recently penned a piece on Facebook’s new Timeline format which has some interesting thoughts.

i.e. “Yet to call the sudden regurgitation of years of photos, messages, contacts, and comments disconcerting is an understatement. All along, Facebook has been tracking your data, waiting for this moment to arrive. Because it’s not just your Facebook life that Timeline captures: the first date is not, as you might expect, the day you joined; it’s the day you were born. A site best known for disseminating awkward party photos is now imagining itself at the foot of your mother’s bed at the moment of your delivery, diligently taking notes…

Rather than downplaying the mountain of data it has collected, Facebook put it on display. Look, it says, look at how much we’ve learned about one another. We’ve come a long way, you and I. Look at what we’ve built together. You wouldn’t walk away from that, now, would you?”

André the seal gets fishing permit, whales wait patiently

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Opening up our thinking

A while back in Scotland, a wee seal named André was awarded a fishing permit by the Loch Lomond Angling Improvement Association.  Fortified with his new permit and passport sized picture, André was now legally allowed to fish to his stomach’s content until October 31st, 2003.  The Association’s reason for its generous donation?  “André has been committing a poaching offense by eating all our salmon. He has already cost us thousands of pounds in fish and through loss of permit sales, so the least we could do until he is caught is to make it legal.”

Too funny.

In a letter to his newest member, Mr Brady, the Association Chair at the time, wrote: “We have decided to issue you with a fishing permit for the season. This will allow you to fish in Loch Lomond and the River Leven. Last year some of your friends (two otters) moved into the River Endrick, so you may wish to visit them and (unfortunately for us) share a salmon or two with them.”

What’s particularly interesting about this one though, is that eleven years later The Economist, stalwart economic orator that it is, has taken the unusual step to publish a proposal by the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS).  The proposal?  That whales and dolphins, based on their degree of intelligence and self-awareness, are “persons” too and as such should be accorded these rights.

According to the proponents, this idea – that is, what we call a person – does not necessarily need to be human.  Instead, in philosophy, a “person is a being with special characteristics who deserves special treatment as a result of those characteristics.” Based on this premise, cetaceans do indeed count as “persons” and therefore have moral rights as appropriate to their species.

Although the proponents have cautiously and understandably left some wiggle room here, i.e. “as appropriate to their species”, it’s interesting – and perhaps testament to our moral development – that these conversations are occurring at the level of AAAS and being picked up by The Economist, no less.

P.S. A couple of tongue-in-cheek commentators on the Economist article thought that perhaps the whales would take offence to being called people.  Still others indicated that perhaps immigration might become an interesting issue.. i.e. “the Grey Whale crosses from Mexico into US waters early each year without any documentation. Then the entire population spends months eating American molluscs and having sex in American waters until returning to Mexico (again without bothering to get their passports stamped) where each winter the next generation of illegal immigrants is born. If we recognize whales as equal to people we may have to (at last) develop an immigration policy that treats Mexicans (and others from the South) as human beings!”