Beyond Compare

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Good lord on a bicycle we humans are a comparative species aren’t we? We can’t seem to avoid measuring everything against something that came before. It’s like a… ahem. Right.

This train of thought was send careening out of the station by an article from back in January of this year about a remarkable young woman named Sabrina Pasterski.

The article describes how Pasterski, now a 22 year old first-generation Cuban-American born and bred in the suburbs of Chicago, not to mention an MIT graduate and Harvard Ph.D. candidate in physics caught the eye of the top professors at MIT when she built her own single engine plane. At 14. So far, she’s caught the attention of the best and brightest of the propeller heads at NASA and even Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon and aerospace company Blue Origin, promising her a job whenever she’s ready.

Her physics work has revolved around semiclassical Virasoro symmetry of the quantum gravity S-matrix and Low’s subleading soft theorem as a symmetry of QED. Obviously.

A remarkable young woman indeed.

To the author’s credit, the article doesn’t delve deeply into the fact that Pasterski has never had a boyfriend, because honestly, it’s not important. I point that out only because often articles written about remarkable women spend inordinate amounts of time focused on things that seem at best, irrelevant, and at worst, a distraction from the achievements of the woman in question.

I could go on and on about such thing, however the shadows grow long and I must return to the the point of my essay, lest I lose you to the beguiling black hole of vacuous diversion and distraction that is the World Wide InterWeb-Net.

I began this essay by suggesting that humans are an incredibly comparative species: it seems like ages ago doesn’t it? We’ve been through so much together since then. But we can pick up from where we began. The headline of the article states that this amazingly talented and obviously brilliant young woman could be the “next Albert Einstien.” That’s quite an honour to bestow on a 22 year old, and as far I can tell, it’s entirely warranted. It got me to thinking about how as humans we use comparison to measure and grade our world.

I admit that my immediate, knee-jerk reaction to the headline was, “Well that’s all well and good, but instead of the next Einstein, why can’t she be the first Pasterski?” Upon reflection, I realized that this is just our way of understanding the significance of this young woman’s brilliance. As much as we would love to be judged on our own merits alone, it can be difficult to fathom without some sort of comparison.

This is, of course, science at its best. Incredible discoveries by one person are often built upon the work of others, either by confirming or refining previously held theories, or by using existing ideas to discover entirely new ways to look at the universe. As Newton has reportedly said, “If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.”

Using my earlier logic of stating that this young woman should be called the “first Pasterski” in stead of the “next Einstein” might seem like a noble attempt at applauding her obvious brilliance and individuality, but it would mean nothing to anyone not familiar with her or her work. It also discounts the idea that her discoveries are built on the foundations of those who came before, and so on.

This in no way diminishes Pasterski’s intelligence, skill or contributions – the ones she’s making now and those she will no doubt make in the future. To use a slightly different example, many believe – rightly as I see it – that Susan Sontag was a brilliant (if polarizing) writer and essayist. It takes nothing away from her achievements to point out that she didn’t invent the English language, nor did she invent the formats in which her words appeared. It seems like a silly thing to suggest, but it’s no different than trying to diminish a scientist’s discoveries because they were based on the work of others. (Something I once heard someone try to do.)

I do sincerely hope that some time in the future an article is written about another remarkable young person, proclaiming them to be the “next Pasterski.” Judging from what I’ve seen, that future looks quite possible.

We are, it seems, a comparative species, because it allows us to understand value. We require a benchmark, something to judge things and people against in order to understand it’s place. In an ideal world, we could accept things as valuable simply on the strength of their very existence and by their own unique merits. However, this world is not at all ideal.

It’s far more interesting than that.

All Alone in the Night

Almost everyone on Earth has seen a UFO.

No I’m not caught up in nostalgia for the X-Files returning to TV, nor have I misaligned my tinfoil hat or begun blathering on about moon landing conspiracies. I am simply making a statement of fact.

Just about every human being on Earth (with a few obvious exceptions) has seen a UFO.

Now before you begin to argue that you’ve never seen anything like that, and besides that’s all just nonsense from the alien-obsessed crackpots and eccentrics, please hear me out.

First of all, I said nothing about aliens. I said ‘UFO.’ A UFO is simply an Unidentified Flying Object, a lovely and informative little acronym that’s become so overburdened by misinformation and conflated with all manner of pop culture silliness the meaning has been lost to nearly everyone.

A UFO is simply that – an flying object that is, while being observed at least, unidentified. No mention of alien craft, or spaceships, or any other such esoteric meanings. We’ve all seen a light in the sky, only to discover a moment later that it was an aircraft, a meteorite, Superman, etc. A common occurrence to most of humanity, hence my initial statement.

It’s easy for us to look down our collective noses (and interesting mental image that) at those who claim to have seen, not just a UFO, but a UFO, something that is most assuredly not a 747, a fiery hunk of rock, or a guy with a cape and his underwear on the outside of his pants. However if we can take a moment between snickering and rolling our eyes, I’d like to put forward a point for consideration.

There have been millions of UFO sightings over the years, the earliest believed to have occurred in 1676, and of course, most of them were hoaxes, misidentification of aircraft, etc.

However, out of the millions of reported sightings, what if just one of them were real. Just one out of millions. The odds are certainly better than all of them being real and only one being a hoax.

You may be wondering if I believe in the existence of alien life in the universe. I believe that it is mathematically impossible and unspeakable arrogant to think that we are alone in the universe. As for aliens visiting Earth… I can’t say yes or no definitively, because that would be just as arrogant and presumptuous as stating that we are the only inhabited planet in all of creation.

Perhaps out there in space there’s a being standing on the surface of his or her own world, staring up at the endless night and asking that most profound and heart-wrenchingly lonely of questions:

“Is there anybody out there?”

I look around at the world we’ve created – this bizarre miasma of beings who murder each other over pieces of dirt, destroy irreplaceable natural wonders in the name of civilization and possess so much knowledge but far less understanding than those who came before – and I wonder if we’re even worthy to answer that question.

If there is life out there, if there are intelligent beings in the universe with whom we can communicate, I can only hope they’re nothing like us.

Heroes, Super-Science and the Bright Stuff of Dreams

1986 opened with hope and promise in the world of space science. On January 12, STS-61-C, Space Shuttle Columbia launched carrying the first Hispanic American astronaut, Dr. Franklin Chang Díaz. Just 12 days later, the Voyager 2 space probe made its first encounter with Uranus, revealing nearly a dozen new moons and sending back fascinating data on the powder blue planet.

But just four days later, on January 28th, the hopes, and hearts of millions of people were shattered when Space Shuttle orbiter Challenger exploded 73 seconds into its flight, killing all seven of her crew. The horrific tragedy was made even harder to bear by the knowledge that among the millions who watched the launch were a group of schoolchildren whose teacher, Payload Specialist Christa McAuliffe, was making history as the first civilian in space.

It feels rather cliché to say (as newsreaders often do) that the disaster ‘shocked and stunned the nation,’ but that is precisely what happened. It’s also cliché to say that one can only imagine what was going through the minds of those watching the tragedy unfold that day. It would be cliché, and inaccurate, because I have a pretty good idea – I was one of those watching.

Television has been berated and traduced for years as an idiot box, a soul sucking device designed to turn us into passive observers, ready to blindly buy into whatever was presented to us. On that day however, television played a very different role for a fourteen year old boy who spent most of his time dreaming of the stars. It was, somewhat ironically, a teller of truth, a messenger delivering the terrible news that even our heroes were not invulnerable to the cruel realities of life.

Perhaps I should explain.

I effectively grew up with the Space Shuttle. First launched when I was ten years old, the idea of a reusable space vehicle was to me mind-bogglingly exciting. It meant that space exploration would once again involve human beings. Prior to this I had read and studied everything I could find on space exploration, but it always seemed as if human spaceflight was an endeavour restricted to the dusty pages of a history book. The excitement of the ‘giant leap for mankind’ appeared to have ended and our gaze had once again turned inward. The Space Shuttle was like something out of the sci-fi books I loved so dearly. A reusable spacecraft! Flying to space would be like taking a jet flight! (You can see that my enthusiasm at that young age rather outweighed my knowledge of orbital mechanics. Or economics for that matter.)

I can proudly say now that I have never missed the broad cast of a Shuttle launch. Even now, watching what Neil Peart, the drummer and lyricist of the band Rush, described as “venting vapours, like the breath of a sleeping white dragon” in the song ‘Countdown,’ my heart pounds with anticipation for the launch. To quote Peart again:

The earth beneath us starts to tremble,
With the spreading of a low black cloud,
A thunderous roar shakes the air,
Like the whole world exploding…

Unfortunately I’ve never seen a live launch, though many times when watching it on television I have increased the volume to window-shaking levels to try and capture at least some of the sheer majesty of such an event.

As an avid follower of all things space related, it won’t surprise you to know that I had the timing of the Shuttle launches down to a near-precise science. Watching the Challenger launch was no different.

T-0… liftoff, the gleaming white arrow of the shuttle slowly rises into the sky, it’s solid rocket boosters providing the lift for the ascent phase. Two minutes into the flight, the boosters will have exhausted their fuel and will eject…

And somehow… I knew something was wrong. I realize how crazy that sounds dear reader, but in that instant, my entire body went cold as I saw the billowing cloud of the explosion with two long tendrils of exhaust spiraling away from it. There, in living colour, I saw the death of the Challenger and her crew.

Even now, thirty years later I tear up thinking about that horrible moment.

At this point you may think me silly, or terribly sentimental. It’s possible you don’t understand what that tragedy did to me and so many other people. How it devastated the families of Francis Scobee, Michael Smith, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Judith Resnik, Gregory Jarvis and of course Christa McAuliffe. How it set back the Space Shuttle program 32 months while the cause of the disaster was investigated.

The night of the disaster, President Ronald Reagan was scheduled to give his State of the Union address, but instead spoke to the nation about the Challenger and her crew:

“We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and ‘slipped the surly bonds of Earth’ to ‘touch the face of God.'”

‘Hero’ is a word we use far too easily in our culture, often by overlooking the everyday heroes that surround us each and every day. It would be easy to refer to the Challenger crew as heroes in the traditional sense, people with extraordinary courage who risk it all for the ultimate adventure. However I believe it would be more appropriate to think of them as heroes in the more classical sense – exemplars, not of perfect human beings, but of beings with the insatiable curiosity and drive to understand our place in the universe.

If you’ve read this far… thank you. I’d like to ask a favour if I may. In honour of those lost aboard Challenger, and in honour of the countless others who have been inspired by theirs and other’s sacrifices, please take a moment today and ponder this:

What if we, as a species, took our endless ingenuity at creating methods of killing and destruction and turned it toward the path of knowledge and understanding. How would that change the world? How would it change us?

The child in each of us, the one who stares up at the night sky and dreams of the stars and the worlds beyond, is waiting for an answer.

Teaching Kids to Code a Better Future

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Recently the government of British Columbia introduced new plans that would introduce coding to school curricula, from Kindergarten to Grade 12.

The new coding curriculum will be introduced across all grades over three years, featuring new standards in mathematics and sciences and a new ‘applied design, skills and technologies’ (ADST) component to improve students’ abilities to solve problems and think creatively.

Back when I was in school (a time when they were still working the bugs out of ‘the wheel’ and Donald Trump’s hair was its original colour: green) the only coding we knew about was the secret language you used to write messages back and forth to your friends. Such was our prowess at cryptography, the codebreakers at Bletchley Park would have had a devil of a time deciphering our pithy correspondences, such as: “Dave is a idiot. Pass it on.” But… I digress.

There are a couple of points to be made here I think. First of all, this is an obvious attempt to address a direct shortage of technology workers in Canada, especially in light of the collapse of the oil industry. Many (myself included) see this as a bit of a desperation move, trying to make up for years of obsessing over oil and gas, a non-sustainable, and as we’ve seen, entirely unstable source of economic growth.

Secondly, there will be those will decry this initiative as another example of the diminishing of the Humanities in favour of yet more STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics)-related subjects. I admit, I’ve always been of the opinion that promoting STEM subjects at the cost of the Arts and Humanities is an egregious mistake that has lead to many of our greatest social problems, possibly even Nickelback. Both areas should be taught with equal weight, as it requires both the technical knowledge of the STEM subjects AND the wisdom and creativity of the Humanities to be a truly prosperous and valuable member of a modern society.

Indeed, one could argue (convincingly I believe) that this STEM-bias (and the arrogance that invariably goes with it) has led to our current financial situation.

In any event, I think this move by the B.C. government, whatever its motives, is a good thing overall. I’m not for a moment suggesting that all kids should be software developers, nor indeed will many of them want to be. However coding, and the logic and thought process that goes into technology has become, for better or worse, a fundamental skill that must be possessed in order to succeed in this society. It’s becoming a kind of 21st century literacy, as critical to daily life as the ability to read, write, or count.

“Hang on a minute,” I hear you cry in what looks suspiciously like italics. “What about those children who want to be writers, filmmakers, artists, psychologists and the like. Why do they need to learn how to code? Surely such training would be wasted on them.”

Not necessarily. Many of the social issues we run into today are born from ignorance. Consider this somewhat simplistic example. If you understood how your car worked – the mechanics, the electronics, etc. – getting it repaired would be a far less scary proposition (and possibly less costly). I’m not suggesting that we all need to be mechanics, any more than everyone needs to be a computer programmer, but understanding the basic principles behind the objects and devices we use every day is empowering. The fact that many of us still stare at our mobile phones with an expression of “Oooo… magic talking light box!” is worrying in the extreme. Especially when the device is, in fact, off.

Ignorance, and it’s far more lethal cousin willful ignorance, leads to problems far beyond not knowing how your car works and getting ripped off on a repair you didn’t need. Ignorance is a breeding ground for fear, which is the perfect environment for hate to spring.

It may seem like a stretch to connect all these things – coding in schools, ignorance of technology, fear-based hate – but they are connected by a single idea: the lack of knowledge.

It’s impossible to make intelligent, informed decisions about our world without knowledge. Whether that be an understanding of the technologies we create, or the people we interact with each day, many of the decisions we now make are based on very little real knowledge. Take a good look around at some of our biggest social problems and it’s easy to see how knowledge (and its dance partner understanding) could possibly have alleviated or at least lessened the damage done.

If our schools truly are the training ground for the next generation, then we need to do a better job of arming them with the knowledge and understanding they’ll need to make better decisions. Who knows? They might even be able to fix some of the messes we’ve made.

Best of 2015: What If…? (1 + 1 = 3)

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Once again I’m swallowing my humility and firing up the Wayback machine to bring you one of my favourite essays of the past year. Today’s essay takes to the good old days of early November, when I offered you a cognitive conundrum to spark your creativity and challenge your ideas about imagination and even mathematics. What if 1 + 1 = 3?

Dear reader, today I’d like to talk about the creative spark, the muse, the inexplicable voice that whispers strange and wonderful suggestions in our ear. I’ve talked about creativity before of course, but this time out I’d like to approach it from a different angle, and show you how sometimes the craziest notions can give rise to something wonderful. But first… a some magic.

Yes, magic. A cognitive conundrum that will tax your ‘little grey cells’ as Agatha Christie’s preeminent detective, Hercule Poirot might say. Are you ready? Here it is:

1 + 1 = 3

No that’s not a typo, and just to prove it, I’ll do it again:

1 + 1 = 3

“Now see here,” I hear you exclaim, “I may not know much, but I know that one plus one does not equal three!” Indeed dear reader, while normally I would not have the temerity to heap such obvious hogwash on you, in this instance I must beg your indulgence and ask a simple question: What if it did?

Like you, I was taught in school that one plus one equalled two. As a child, that mathematical certainty remained as solid and reassuring as the stars in the sky. I did not doubt its validity any more than I doubted the sunrise, or that Wile E. Coyote’s brilliant and cunning plan (aided and abetted by the venerable ACME as it was) would once again fail to procure a fresh Road Runner for his evening meal.

Despite this solid mathematical foundation, I always felt that something was awry, as if there were a fundamental truth I was missing. It would take many years, and many broken math teachers, before I discovered the answer.

According to mathematics, when you add one object to another object, you end up with two objects. Seems simple enough right? Now let’s look at it from another perspective. If you have one piece of wood, and you attach it to another piece of wood, you actually end up with three items.

Bear with me dear reader, I assure you I’ve not gone mad. Try this example: If you have two sticks and you combine them, you end up with the two sticks you started with, and a third object, in this case, a cross. One plus one… makes three. More than the sum of their parts.

“Ok, that’s a neat parlour trick, but what does it have to do with the creative spark?” A fair question. The creative spark comes about when you allow yourself to think in unconventional ways. Following these sometimes bizarre lines of thought encourages broader thinking. Broader thinking leads to more creative ways of solving problems.

The most important aspect of creativity is the understanding that it’s ok to occasionally break the rules. Doing so will not cause the collapse of society. My earlier act of numerical necromancy will not lead to a cascade of financial collapses and disasters – the world’s bankers are already doing a fine job of that – but it does open some interesting avenues of thought. Creativity is built on the assumption that everything is fair game – even the rules.

If you’re struggling with the idea of bending or breaking the fundamental rules of the universe to create something new, remember this: Aristotle’s concept of the Earth and planets existing in fixed, crystal spheres was accepted as truth for eighteen centuries before Copernicus came along and revolutionized the way we look at the night sky. Nothing is truly carved in stone.

Science, engineering and mathematics may be based on evidence and experimental processes, but they all require the creative spark to get them started. Discovery often begins with the question ‘What if…?’ and nothing, absolutely nothing, sparks creativity and imagination like ‘what if.’

So whether you’re rewriting the fundamental laws of mathematics, building impossible structures or simply attempting to pen a magnum opus for your company’s blog… nurture and encourage the creative spark within yourself and others, particularly children.

Who knows? You may just create something that’s more than the sum of its parts. And that dear reader, is real magic.

Wetter Water (Backed by Science!)

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Dear reader, today I offer just a few brief words as I am currently fighting off a migraine, and as such my cognitive and literary capabilities have been severely diminished.

I wanted to briefly share with you the miracle of science that is ‘wetter water.’ Yes dear reader, water that has a greater capacity for… moistening than the standard, unimpressive dihydrogen monoxide we have been forced to avail ourselves of until now.

I am referring of course to the ‘Beauty Water’ product from Sakara. Described (rather helpfully I thought) as “beautifying, detoxifying hydration,” Beauty Water promises to be “…an absolute morning treat for body + spirit.” Indeed. We’ve obviously been slumming it up until now.

The passionate product description reads like a romance novel written by the love child of a sommelier and someone who once glanced at a science magazine in doctor’s office. Passages such as “…highest quality spring water kissed with pure rose oil and beautifying trace minerals, including silica…” make the heart pound with unbridled passion.

Further investigation reveals that the rose oil in question derives from rose ‘hips.’ Colour me ignorant dear reader, but I was not aware roses had hips, much less that it was possible to derive anything from them. One wonders if we shall see devices such as Thigh Masters and Hip Blasters featured on late night infomercials for the benefit of our Rosa Rosaceae friends.

Of course it is the aforementioned silica that leads to the true breakthrough, as described thusly: “Silica is a trace mineral that is known to make water wetter and provide deep cellular hydration.” Apparently it is known to make water wetter. I must shamefully count myself among those innocent of any such ennobling experience.

I for one am grateful to have stumbled across such a miracle of modern chemistry. Just think, years from now I’ll be able to tell people exactly where I was when I first heard about the miracle of wetter water. They may be surprised to discover it wasn’t an asylum.

Science and marketing are powerful tools. Combined with ignorance and unscrupulousness, they’re also extremely profitable.

The Learning Curve

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A few years ago a friend and I had the opportunity to visit the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, Canada. While we were there, we came across an exhibit of archaeological artifacts from ancient Egypt. Being immensely interested in Archaeology, and having never seen anything like this before, I was ecstatic to explore the exhibit in its entirety. One of the most significant pieces of the collection was a mummy, on loan from the Cairo Museum. According to the hieroglyphics found on the sarcophagus, the mummy had been a wealthy merchant named ‘Antjou.’ As you can imagine, I was stunned to be able to experience such a magnificent wonder with my own eyes.

My companion eyed me carefully and then asked, “When I look at this, I just see a mummy. Essentially a corpse, albeit a very old one. What do you see?”

Her question was far from rhetorical, and revealed just how well she knew me. I grinned with excitement and took a moment to gather my thoughts before responding. “This man… this man is a time traveler. He has stepped *two thousand years* into his future to tell us his story. I think we should listen to what he has to say!”

My companion grinned knowingly and shook her head, but did not respond.

Later we found ourselves in the space exhibit, where one piece in particular caught my eye, and my imagination. A large meteorite, about the size of a microwave oven, sat on a pedestal with no glass case surrounding it. It was available to touch, to feel its rough, cratered surface. Once again, my companion gazed at me carefully. “Ok… it’s a meteorite. But you don’t see that do you?”

I grinned again. “You’re right, it is a meteorite, but it’s much more. It’s a space traveler, quite literally… an alien. This object did not originate on this planet! Imagine the implications! Where did it come from? Was it part of someone else’s planet eons ago?”

My friend simply laughed and said, “You should be leading tours of this place. Your excitement and enthusiasm are pretty contagious.”

I tell you that story dear reader not to impress you, but to illustrate something that I believe is missing from our modern educational system. Before I continue let me clarify a couple of points. By ‘modern educational system’ I am referring of course to the North American educational system. I cannot speak to the quality of systems in Europe or elsewhere, due simply to a lack of experience. You will also note that I refer to the ‘educational system,’ and not necessarily teachers or instructors within that system. The fact is, there are [countless] people within the system who do everything possible to inspire and excite their students, but are usually hamstrung by draconian bureaucracies and outdated lesson plans. They struggle to provide meaningful learning within a broken system, and for that reason I admire them.

So what is it that’s missing from our educational system? Quite frankly, education.

That’s not just a play on words dear reader. I firmly believe that the purpose of our education system is not to ‘educate’ young people, nor is it to inspire or excite them at the concept of learning and discovery. The education system has become a factory, a system for mass producing standardized, cookie-cutter cogs that can fit into the machine of society, not thinkers and dreamers.

The current educational model puts far more emphasis on rote learning and memorization than it does on thinking, discussing and challenging ideas. Standardized examinations are recipe for regurgitation, not understanding. While some students will be inspired on their own by the subjects they study, many are left to simply plod through the system, inhaling boring facts and figures, throwing them up on an exam, and then forgetting about them.

I think my difficulties with education can be summed up by this brief anecdote. Back in the 1990s in Newfoundland, the then-President of Memorial University, Art May (who passed away in 2014) was quoted on local news that people doing Arts degrees at the University needed to “get out of the way of people doing real degrees like math, science and engineering,” what we now refer to as STEM. As you can imagine, the statement garnered backlash and, as I remember, was followed by a hasty apology, but the attitude was clear – the STEM subjects are given far more credibility than the Arts or the Humanities. It certainly explains funding decisions.

On a certain level, this makes some sense. Obviously STEM subjects are quite practical, and contribute to many of the modern conveniences that we enjoy in the 21st century. However, all the technical or scientific prowess in the world is meaningless if you lack the ability to share it coherently. Subjects such as psychology, political science, anthropology and social studies provide the context in which the advances of science and technology can be used for the betterment of humanity. Even the creative arts provide much needed inspiration and social connection, providing students with a well-rounded, less compartmentalized (or is that segregated?) education.

One of the reasons STEM is so highly prized is that it fits so well into the current education system. While the sciences can certainly inspire, they are also grounded in relatively standardized rules and principles that adapt well to our current system. The arts present more of a challenge. How does one ‘grade’ a student’s interpretation of a novel or poem? The reason subjects like history are so boring and end up teaching nothing (which can be seen simply by looking at a newspaper – how many times have we made the same mistakes?) is because they are not suited to a system of memorization.

For example: Telling a student that the Battle of Trafalgar happened on October 21st, 1805 is simply a fact – easily memorized and just as easily forgotten. However describing in detail the events of October 21st 1805 and bringing it to life – explaining the are of the deck where Nelson stood in his full Admiral’s regalia when he was struck down by a French sniper – that brings the event alive, it makes it far more real, and may very well inspire a student to look more deeply into the event. This can be done for just about any subject.

Education is not just about memorizing facts and figures, it’s about seeing the world for the incredibly complex system that it is. It’s about inspiration. It’s about understanding.

A rock, or an alien visitor. An ancient corpse, or a time traveler. It’s all a matter of perspective.

The Paragon of Animals

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Dear reader, today I’d like to make a confession. I’ve never been to a zoo. Despite having lived for three years in a city with a sizeable collection of animals of all kinds for the enjoyment and, one would hope, edification of the public, I never made it there. For most of my life it was understandable, living as I did in Canada’s eastern most province where there are no zoos to speak of, and the wildest animals were often the population itself. Even now, living the Bohemian life here in the delightful metropolis of Montreal, I have not yet been to the zoo, despite a tremendous desire to gaze with my own eyes on a selection of the magnificent cornucopia of fauna that grace our planet.

So what stays my hand you ask? I was never quite sure until recently, when I found myself wondering: Was it not possible that future generations would look back with amazement and distaste at our casual willingness to allow the imprisonment of animals?

The moral dilemma this creates is a very interesting one. Perfectly decent, kind and considerate people two hundred years ago kept slaves, owned shares in plantations that used nothing but slaves and wore clothing made from cotton that they knew perfectly well had been picked by slaves. If you went back and told them they were participating in and encouraging one of the most heinous and inhuman practices imaginable they would have thought you insane.

Our great-grandfathers would have snorted into their brandy if told that preventing half of the population from voting defeated the entire concept of democracy. Those who campaigned for women’s suffrage were hysterical. Women didn’t understand politics and should never be allowed to vote, the majority of men of the time argued. If you then explained that in sixty years’ time one of the longest serving leaders of Britain would be a woman they would probably have had an aneurysm.

But our great-grandfathers were not evil men, nor incapable of grasping the moral arguments that we now take for granted. History has shown that morality is largely based on custom and we are (thankfully) accustomed to the idea that it’s wrong for one human to own another, that it is pernicious for women or any citizen of legal age to be denied a vote and that freak shows are disgusting – though it must be said this does not seem to bother the creators of reality television.

What then will our grandchildren think our world? Which of our practices will turn their stomachs and leave them amazed that we could ever have called ourselves civilized? I have the distinct impression that zoos will figure high on that list.

Human beings have rich imaginations and the ability to distract themselves by remembering poems or writing new ones and we find it almost intolerable to cope with incarceration. Animals, so far as we know, do not have an interior life that can make captivity less traumatizing. They simply turn slowly from rage to despair to neurosis… and finally to a kind of numb lethargy.

At this point you may be asking, What about the scientific side of things, the conservation of endangered species and all that? It is true that zoos are staffed by people who genuinely love the animal kingdom and who do their best to protect the myriad creatures that roam the surface of this big blue marble like a majestic carpet of life. They study and learn as much as possible about our animal friends so we may understand them better, and yes, even preserve some that have been, shamefully, brought to the edge of extinction by humanity’s greed, sort-sightedness and arrogance.

There are those who will argue that animals have rights. It would be equally easy to argue that they don’t, on the grounds that they are not as intelligent as us. They do not build cities, create music or dream of exploring the universe. They also don’t slaughter their own kind over absurd trivialities, so… there’s that.

At some point someone will start the debate about food hunting, veganism, etc. I am not a vegan myself, nor do I deride those who are. I simply have my own view of the world, one that I think we arrogant humans all too easily forget: We are animals. We are a vital part of the food chain. Don’t believe me? Spend a few weeks living in the Amazon jungle, or the plains of Serengeti, or the oceans of the world, and nature will be glad to show you where you fit in the food chain. Somewhere between the aperitif and the main course I should think.

In terms of zoos and (heaven help us) theme parks, the distinction is a little more clear. Animals may be there for our sustenance, but not our entertainment. They do have a right to be left alone, especially when the argument of food hunting no longer applies.

There are also certain rights that we do not have. We do not have the right to put other creatures in prison, especially for so obscene and bizarre a reason as for the furtherance of our appreciation of them. We do not have the right to tease, bully or torture them.

Someday our grandchildren may very well ask: Is it possible that people actually took polar bears away from the arctic and set them in concrete-floored cages in southern climes to be gaped at? My grandparents would never have allowed that, they would have protested, lobbied government or written to the newspapers. My kindly old grandparents would have been ashamed to live in a world which imprisoned animals for show. Wouldn’t they?

Wouldn’t we?

What if…?

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Dear reader, today I’d like to talk about the creative spark, the muse, the inexplicable voice that whispers strange and wonderful suggestions in our ear. I’ve talked about creativity before of course, but this time out I’d like to approach it from a different angle, and show you how sometimes the craziest notions can give rise to something wonderful. But first… a some magic.

Yes, magic. A cognitive conundrum that will tax your ‘little grey cells’ as Agatha Christie’s preeminent detective, Hercule Poirot might say. Are you ready? Here it is:

1 + 1 = 3

No that’s not a typo, and just to prove it, I’ll do it again:

1 + 1 = 3

“Now see here,” I hear you exclaim, “I may not know much, but I know that one plus one does not equal three!” Indeed dear reader, while normally I would not have the temerity to heap such obvious hogwash on you, in this instance I must beg your indulgence and ask a simple question: What if it did?

Like you, I was taught in school that one plus one equalled two. As a child, that mathematical certainty remained as solid and reassuring as the stars in the sky. I did not doubt its validity any more than I doubted the sunrise, or that Wile E. Coyote’s brilliant and cunning plan (aided and abetted by the venerable ACME as it was) would once again fail to procure a fresh Road Runner for his evening meal.

Despite this solid mathematical foundation, I always felt that something was awry, as if there were a fundamental truth I was missing. It would take many years, and many broken math teachers, before I discovered the answer.

According to mathematics, when you add one object to another object, you end up with two objects. Seems simple enough right? Now let’s look at it from another perspective. If you have one piece of wood, and you attach it to another piece of wood, you actually end up with three items.

Bear with me dear reader, I assure you I’ve not gone mad. Try this example: If you have two sticks and you combine them, you end up with the two sticks you started with, and a third object, in this case, a cross. One plus one… makes three. More than the sum of their parts.

“Ok, that’s a neat parlour trick, but what does it have to do with the creative spark?” A fair question. The creative spark comes about when you allow yourself to think in unconventional ways. Following these sometimes bizarre lines of thought encourages broader thinking. Broader thinking leads to more creative ways of solving problems.

The most important aspect of creativity is the understanding that its ok to occasionally break the rules. Doing so will not cause the collapse of society. My earlier act of numerical necromancy will not lead to a cascade of financial collapses and disasters – the world’s bankers are already doing a fine job of that – but it does open some interesting avenues of thought. Creativity is built on the assumption that everything is fair game – even the rules.

If you’re struggling with the idea of bending or breaking the fundamental rules of the universe to create something new remember this: Aristotle’s concept of the Earth and planets existing in fixed, crystal spheres was accepted as truth for eighteen centuries before Copernicus came along and revolutionized the way we look at the night sky. Nothing is truly carved in stone.

Science, engineering and mathematics may be based on evidence and experimental processes, but they all require the creative spark to get them started. Discovery often begins with the question ‘What if…?’ and nothing, absolutely nothing, sparks creativity and imagination like ‘what if.’

So whether you’re rewriting the fundamental laws of mathematics, building impossible structures or simply attempting to pen the latest magnum opus for your company’s blog… nurture and encourage the creative spark within yourself and others, particularly children.

Who knows? You may just create something that’s more than the sum of its parts. And that dear reader, is real magic.

Blind Faith and the Religion of Science

Photo Credit: Liu Zhai Hou via Unsplash.com

Note: I admit dear reader, I struggled with the title of this essay. I’m not a fan of ‘click-bait’ articles that rarely deliver on their sensational titles. I assure you I have no desire to mislead. The title above is absolutely germane to the subject of this essay. Enjoy. 

If you’ve been perusing the ubiquitous worldwide-inter-web-net recently you’ve no doubt heard about the glass walkway suspended above a gorge in China that cracked under tourist’s feet. Apparently the U-shaped walkway, which wraps around a cliff face 3,543 feet up the Yuntai Mountain in China’s Henan province, started exhibiting cracks one morning, causing no small amount of panic to those on the bridge at the time. Officials apparently told Chinese media that damage was caused “by tourists who had dropped a thermos flask on the glass.”

That’s… comforting.

Now it’s no secret that I am not a fan of heights, and as such I probably would not be interested in such a spectacle, cracks or no. It does however bring up an interesting point about the (often blind) faith we place in science and engineering.

Several tall buildings in the world feature these types of glass or transparent floors, designed for the excitement of those who enjoy incredible vertiginous views that would normally be unavailable. The CN Tower in Toronto, Canada is one such example.

Despite my stomach-wrenching terror of extreme vertical drops, I can absolutely understand the desire to experience such marvels of engineering. The exhilaration and adrenaline rush that accompanies the fear response can be intoxicating for many people, even despite the abject terror it brings.

Often when I’ve eschewed a particularly daring activity for the solidity of terra firma (As the old joke says, “The firma the terra, the betta.”), in variably someone will attempt to assuage my fear by pointing out that it’s silly and that “it’s engineered to be safe.” This blind faith in the field of engineering – and unless the speaker is themselves an engineer, it is a blind faith – is fascinating to me.

Don’t misunderstand me here, I have no cynicism or distrust toward the scientific and engineering communities. I’m well aware that the people who work in these fields are immensely competent and skilled, and the rigour and quality control found in their work is (necessarily) maintained at the highest levels.

My concern is the fact that we wave around the ‘science’ and ‘engineering’ as if they are unchallengeable facts, despite the fact that most of us have would no idea what to say if someone – quite understandably – questioned our faith. This happens most often with science.

In a past essay, Apropos of Nothing: Ravens, Writing Desks and Finding Patterns in Chaos I made reference to the ‘religion of science.’ I was not attempting to be controversial or (heaven help us) ‘edgy.’ Science IS treated as a religion, and is often accorded a level of unquestioning faith normally associated with more spiritual belief systems.

Even people within the scientific community will occasionally evince this behaviour, showing a close-mindedness that completely goes against the scientific process, making pronouncements that sound a lot like sermons, and ‘attacking’ (thankfully only with words) those who stray from the path of reason, promising to bring ‘truth’ and save people from superstitious nonsense. All well and good, though to anyone acquainted with history it sounds suspiciously familiar.

Now I realize at this point dear reader you may feel as if I have an axe to grind with the scientific and community. I assure you this is not the case. The scientific community is made up largely of intelligent people dedicated to understanding the workings of this incredible universe. They possess a sense of wonder and awe at the sheer complexity of life in all its forms. While there are some who would treat science like a blunt weapon, cynically using it to forward their own views of the world, my real issue is blind faith and the dangers it brings.

I’m obviously not suggesting that we all need to become scientists, or even that we should recoil in fear at any piece of modern engineering in case someone made a mistake during construction. Both scenarios would be absurd and would take the joy out of life. What I AM suggesting, is simply that when we are presented with an assertion of truth or fact, that we question it a little more than we currently do.

Whether we’re talking about the pronouncements of science, political promises or internet articles that claim that ‘what happened next will blow your mind!’, its important to ask questions before accepting things as fact.

In the end, human beings are brilliant, unpredictable, adaptable… and entirely fallible. It’s what makes us so interesting.