Five Uncivilized Resolutions

Learn the names of the winds
Different winds have different names.  The wind of a particular locale may have a particular character and, in many cases, has been given a name by the people who have known its company.  We have a most intimate relationship with the wind: it swirls in our ears, runs its fingers through our hair, and envelopes the whole of our bodies and yet few of us know the name of the wind where we live.  The indifference we show to the wind as it carries away the sweat from our skin is a significant form of disrespect; knowing someone’s name lets them know that they matter to you at least in some small way.

Look toward the moon
I will recognize and in some way honor each full moon.  The selection of this approximately once a month event is in some ways arbitrary; there is no shortage of natural events that warrant our attention or could serve as a focus for ritual and reflection.  The idea is to select something for closer than usual attention and to honor it, to assert that it is indeed sacred and worth pausing for.  The full moon is unquestionably worth pausing for.

Learn to draw
Only recently  have I taken an interest in learning to draw but I have thus far been quite lax in my efforts and hope to reinvigorate them.  As far as I can tell, from the naïve vantage point that I currently occupy, learning to draw would in many ways be learning to see; to take note of what’s there and record it in some fashion.  It is a means of focusing one’s attention on something and picking out details that might otherwise be missed; perhaps the actual act of drawing is a means to an end, a technique for focusing one’s attention toward a particular object, individual, or landscape and granting it some measure of attention.

Walk and bike greater distances
This is fairly self-explanatory.  Walking and biking are both highly efficient and uniquely enjoyable means of transit.  I am tempted to suggest that bike travel is probably the fastest rate at which humans should be travelling.  It may be objected that we need cars and planes to visit distant loved ones and that much is true for the moment; but we must not forget that it is cars and planes that carried our loved ones away (or carried us away from them as it may be).

Fill in the blanks on this blog
There are some gaps on this blog that I would like to fill in including the About section which is currently blank (as I am only recently coming to discover what the blog is in fact about).  I have also considered putting up a page of book titles and possibly short reviews of titles that I have found particularly compelling and that inform the content of the Uncivilized Animals blog.  Other than that, I hope to continue with my goal of two posts per month.

Okay…that last one hardly qualifies as uncivilized…but no list is perfect.

Pollan on Plants

Unprepared to consider the ethical implications of plant intelligence, I could feel my resistance to the whole idea stiffen.  –Michael Pollan

A recent article in The New Yorker has two significant triggers for readers who happen to be vegan: (1) it considers the intelligence and the moral significance of plants and (2) it is written by Michael Pollan.

Anyone who has been vegan for more than 90 minutes has likely been asked multiple times: “What about plants?”  Almost always, the question is asked by someone who has never sincerely thought about animals but nonetheless feigns concern about the morality of harvesting vegetables.

As for Michael Pollan, I would simply refer curious readers to the work of Vasile Stanescu of Stanford University for a thorough-going animal rights critique of Pollan’s work.  Stanescu’s article “Green Eggs and Ham: The Myth of Sustainable Meat and the Danger of the Local” would be a good starting point.

Unfortunately, these two triggers may discourage readers who are vegan and supportive of animals rights from engaging questions about the intelligence of plants and/or our ethical obligations concerning how we interact with plants.  This is particularly unfortunate because such readers may be amongst the most perceptive in recognizing dubious rationalizations for drawing sharp lines between species (and now kingdoms).   Many of the arguments concerning plants clearly echo more familiar arguments concerning the moral significance of animals.

Quotation Marks and Metaphors

Very early in Pollan’s article we are told that:

The controversy is less about the remarkable discoveries of recent plant science than about how to interpret and name them: whether behaviors observed in plants which look very much like learning, memory, decision-making, and intelligence deserve to be called by those terms or whether those words should be reserved exclusively for creatures with brains.

The parallel with questions regarding animals is evident to anyone who has ever read or listened to Marc Bekoff who abhors the use of scare quotes that are often employed in discussions about animal emotions.  Animals reportedly don’t experience grief, but merely “grief” or perhaps act in a way “as if” they were experiencing grief.  It is a signal that such things are not to be taken too seriously because it’s not real grief.

The same division purportedly exists amongst plant scientists: some feel compelled to use scare quotes for various terms while others drop the quotes and attribute actions such as decision making and learning to plants.  The term “plant intelligence” irks some and is accepted by others.  The Society for Plant Neurobiology quickly changed its name to the Society for Plant Signalling and Behavior.

The difficulty is knowing if there is legitimate reason withholding certain terms or if it is based purely on species (or kingdom) membership; for many “neuro-“ means brain and simply cannot apply to plants.  Likewise, for some, intelligence means human intelligence and cannot apply to animals.

Human-like and Animal-like Qualities

A second signficant parallel is by what standard and on what grounds others—animal others or plant others—are said to merit respect and consideration.  Animal advocates have adopted two significantly different although not mutually exclusive strategies.  There are times when animals are praised and defended based on the qualities they share with humans.  This is most notable in considering the interests of primates and other large-brained animals.  It is suggested that they are so much like us that they must be members of the moral community and necessarily warrant a greater level of consideration.  Others dismiss this approach as insulting toward animals and self-serving on the part of humans suggesting that being like “us” shouldn’t be what matters; animals must be respected on their own terms and for who they genuinely are.

Likewise, this same discussion is apparently taking place amongst plant scientists.   Should plants be respected or judged based on the animal-like qualities they possess or should they be judged for qualities that are to uniquely their own?  Pollan quotes several advocates of this later approach who say “I have no interest in making plants into little animals” and “There is no reason…to call them demi-animals.”  An animal advocated could easily provide similar lines: “I have no interest in making animals into little humans”.

Pain?!

The question of pain might be the most contentious issue in discussing the abilities of plants; it sounds too much like the snarky “What about plants?” question.  But at the same time, it highlights the difficulty of many of these questions for it hinges on what one means by pain.

When Michael Pollan asked Stefano Mancuso if plants feel pain, Mancuso replied ““If plants are conscious, then, yes, they should feel pain,” he said. “If you don’t feel pain, you ignore danger and you don’t survive. Pain is adaptive.”

In reading Mancuso’s reply, do not invest too much weight in the “if” that precedes his affirmative answer.  Mancuso is not hedging his bets as he was already on the record as affirming that plants are conscious (by his understanding of that term) so his prefacing of his reply in that way should not be read as a disclaimer.

Of course, it was not long ago that scientists denied animals feel pain (perhaps they felt “pain” or acted “as if” they were in pain).

Denial

As the quote the quote from Michael Pollan prefacing this post indicates, there are psychological (and perhaps highly practical) reasons for avoiding inquiry into the question of how we might ethically interact with plants.  These are the same reasons that people avert their gaze when confronted with violent images of animals in slaughterhouses; the same reasons people don’t want to know about animal suffering.  It would be a mistake for animal advocates to mimic that level of denial.

Acknowledging that the lives of plants have a moral signficance and that their might be limits on how we interact with them does not threaten animals.  Animal advocates dismiss the crude suggestion that human rights and animal rights are in tension and instead assert that they depend on one another; the same line of thinking could be extended to plants.  Treating plants with the requisite level of respect may reinforce—or even be necessary for the realization of—animal rights and human rights.

Pollan writes that it is Stefano Mancuso’s view that

because plants are sensitive and intelligent beings, we are obliged to treat them with some degree of respect. That means protecting their habitats from destruction and avoiding practices such as genetic manipulation, growing plants in monocultures, and training them in bonsai.

It might be important to note that Mancuso does not think that there is a moral prohibition on consuming plants and there is nothing in Pollan’s article to suggest what Mancuso’s views are on consuming animals either.

In conclusion, it may be tempting to dismiss the whole of Pollan’s article as a less succinct but equally trollish way of asking “What about plants?” but we would be wise to divorce the messenger from the message.   If expressing concern for animals often makes a person  vulnerable to ridicule, then expressing concern for plants must make one that much more vulnerable but we ought not aim to curry favor with the mainstream by letting the bulk of their prejudices go unchallenged.  We must not merely extend Singer’s moral circle to include animals only to then nail it down and lock others out.

Recommended:
Stefano Mancuso. The Roots of Plant Intelligence. TED Talk.  (2010)

The Power of Movement in Plants by Charles Darwin (1880)

The Power of Movement in Plants by Charles Darwin (1880)

Everything is Earth

Everything is earth
Stone, bone, and blood
All from a common source
The limbs of a tree and
The limbs of a child
Are all shape-shifting between
Animate and inanimate forms.

Everything is earth
And everything is borrowed flesh,
Walking, crawling, swimming,
Slithering, or soaring
Such fluid forms can only feign stability
At times alive and at times dead
But always in transition.

Everything is earth
Tree sap and skeletons
Webbed feet and cloven hooves
Mushroom caps and spider webs
What you are today
You will not be tomorrow
Yet have always been earth.

You will be reborn and reformed innumerable times
But you will not be you as you know yourself now
But rather will take every conceivable role
Exploiting every available niche
The shape of a star and
The swirl of a snail
You are the earth come alive.

snail

Rejecting Thanksgiving?

There are many reasons to reject Thanksgiving.  It is a holiday that celebrates the genocide carried out against native populations by encouraging the perpetrators of that genocide to enthusiastically gorge themselves on the slaughtered remains of a whole new set of victims.  The systematic slaughter of animals differs from genocide only in that it lacks the goal of total extermination; instead the goal is for a never ending supply of bodies and fluids.  Indeed, it is genocide without end.

Furthermore, Thanksgiving has become the starting gun marking the so-called holiday season, also known as the shopping season.  It is a holiday that is putatively about being thankful and appreciative which concludes with people being trampled to death outside Wal-Mart by shoppers who have been convinced that their adequacy as parents hinges on their ability to secure whatever toy happens to be trending.

Consequently, calls to reject Thanksgiving are commonplace amongst the subset of the population that objects to genocide, animal sacrifice, and/or the mass frenzy of consumerism.

But calling on people to simply reject a firmly established holiday is quite difficult and perhaps somewhat unclear.  Is the idea to treat the day that Thanksgiving happens to fall on as a typical day which might include going to work, eating an average meal, not travelling or visiting family, not engaging in whatever benign traditions one may have grown accustomed to?  I for example would likely have to refrain from playing “Alice Restaurant” and donning my (now stained and tattered) “This Dump is Closed on Thanksgiving” t-shirt.  Does singing a bar of Alice’s Restaurant constitute tacit support for the atrocities at the heart of the Thanksgiving holiday?

Alternatively, is the call to reject or boycott Thanksgiving more accurately (or if not more accurately, simply preferably) understood as a call to re-invent or transform Thanksgiving?  I would suspect that it would be more feasible to transform a holiday than to simply wipe it off the calendar.  I would suspect that it would be impossible for the mass of people currently living in the United States not to ascribe some significance to the end of November, to look at a calendar and not think: “Thanksgiving”.  It is more likely—and more rewarding—to reinvent, rehabilitate, or possibly just co-opt the holiday.

Admittedly, this is far from an original idea.  Many Native Americans have treated the holiday as a Day of Mourning.  I would like to see this idea spread further.  It was introduced as an opportunity to reflect on the violent and genocidal European conquest of this continent but could easily be extended to include the animal populations that have been removed from the land as well.

Likewise, vegans and animal advocates regularly circulate animal-free menus that mimic a traditional Thanksgiving feast.  And I am aware of one animal advocate who has recommended–similar to a Day of Mourning–that a Thanksgiving day fast would be a most appropriate response.  Is a fast a boycott or simply a different way of investing the day with significance and meaning?

In any case, we are a society that is desperately in need of holidays and so we should probably be reluctant to simply give them up.  In Barbara Ehrenreich’s Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy, she reports that “[i]n fifteenth century France…one our of every four days of the year was an official holiday of some sort, usually dedicated to a mix of religious ceremonies, and more or less unsanctioned carryings-on.”  In comparison, our calendar looks quite austere.

But we need holidays that bring us closer to our espoused values, which serve as reminders of what we have genuinely deemed to be important and opportunities to reflect, holidays that pause rather than stimulate business cycles, which offer us the chance to experience a range of emotions from mourning, when appropriate, to joy.  We lack genuine holidays; we now have only sales pitches and endzone dances.Day of Mourning

Hymns to Earthworms and Robot Suicides

opb opal whiteley

Opal Whiteley’s childhood diary is a magical document.  It’s full of extravagantly named animals such as Peter Paul Reubens (a pig), Brave Horatius (a dog), Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus (a woodrat) and Felix Mendhelssohn (a mouse).  In the diary, Opal relays her experiences as a child in a logging camp near Cottage Grove, Oregon with these animal friends as well as plant friends, tree friends, and many others.  It is an enchanted world that few of her contemporaries—young or old—perceived.

The authenticity of the diary has been questioned as it is difficult to imagine a six-year old composing it.  I am happy to set the controversy as to its authorship aside and to glean what I can from it regardless of whether it was written by a child or an adult.

Consider the following passages for a sense of Opal’s rich world:

“Now are come the days of the brown leaves. They fall from the trees; they flutter on the ground. When the brown leaves flutter, they are saying little things. I hear them tell of their borning days, when they did come into the world as leaves…They told how they were a part of earth and air…In the gray days of winter they go back to the earth again.” (138)

“I watched the raindrops in the brook going on and on. When I grow up, I am going to write a book about a raindrop’s journey.” (136)

“Most grownups don’t hear them at all. I see them walk right by in a hurry, and all the time, the lichen folk are saying things; and the things they say are their thoughts about the gladness of a winter day. I put my ear close to the rocks, and I listen. That is how I do hear what they are saying.”

“More fir trees of great tallness was on either side of the road—they did stretch out their great arms to welcome us. I so do love trees. I have thinks I was once a tree, growing in the forest. Now all trees are my brothers.” (181)

As an adult, Whiteley attended the University of Oregon.  Older but no less eccentric, Whitely was purportedly seen by the wife of the university president stooped over singing hymns to the resident earthworms.

*****

In sharp contrast is a recent news story that reports on what is described as the first documented robot suicide.  A “rogue Roomba” inexplicably turned itself on, rolled onto a kitchen hot plate, and then was burnt—some might say—to death.

Some news stories even included speculation that being overworked prompted the suicide.

The owner of the Roomba is considering suing the manufacturer so apparently, the “rogue Roomba” isn’t being singled out as the sole responsible party.

*****

Almost anything can seem plausible given the right background assumptions; the most rigorous logic can support the most fanciful conclusion provided it is derived from equally fanciful premises.  One’s worldview can make certain claims seem more or less plausible: worthy of genuine consideration or not worthy of a second thought.  Opal Whiteley regularly had conversations with pigs, horses, and mice and counted them amongst her dearest friends; she eavesdropped on leaves as they conversed with the wind.  She wondered about what potatoes saw when they were in the ground.

Opal was born in 1897 with the diary allegedy being composed in approximately 1904 and published in 1920.  The robot suicide story is from this month.  In the present, the robot suicide may seem to be the more reasonable of the two stories, at least to many.

Opal’s worldview is quite foreign to most people; her peculiar claims are not likely to get widespread consideration beyond possibly their poetic merit.  But perhaps it would be prudent to consider the worldview that is currently taking shape which allows its adherents to perceive a household accident as a “robot suicide”.   Opal Whiteley’s background assumption when singing to an earthworm is that the earthworm was “a creature of God” and thus worthy of respect and perhaps, in some sense, an equal.  What is the background assumption behind news of a robot suicide?  Is this any less peculiar than listening to the wind or considering what life means to an earthworm?

The tone of the newspaper headlines on the robot suicide is seemingly somewhere in between a joke and complete sincerity.  No one is mourning this suicide as they would other more conventional suicides.  But the headlines may be a cultural exercise in trying out new ways of speaking and perceiving; getting used to the idea that a robot might be capable of something so profound; that the robot is, in some sense, an equal.  Between talking leaves and rogue Roombas, which is the more fantastic story?

For myself, I will more readily cup my ear, lean close to a rock, and listen for the voices of the “lichen folk” than to humor the idea of robot suicides.  For what it’s worth, a great many of Opal’s diary entries conclude with sentiments such as, “This is very wonderful world to live in.”  Furthemore, biographer Benjamin Hoff writes that “Opal Whiteley did not merely care for the world; she was in love with it.” [emphasis in original].   Such a love is quite possibly a prerequisite for adequately addressing the ecological crisis we face.

The alternative is a world where even the machines are becoming suicidal and looking for a way out.

opal whiteley mural

Opal Whiteley mural in Cottage Grove, Oregon.

Instead of Learning to Live We are Learning to Die

U.S. presidents may brazenly insist that the American way of life is not negotiable but Nature is not asking to negotiate; our willingness to change light bulbs and drive new cars would certainly not appease her anyway.  We are not really even negotiating in good faith; these things are gestures more than concessions.

In the stages of grief, we are seemingly somewhere between bargaining and depression; very few are still clinging to full-fledged denial and very few have reached the plane of acceptance.  Nonetheless, the writing is on the wall…and in the New York Times as well: this civilization is dead.

In an editorial titled “Learning to Die in the Anthropocene,” Roy Scranton writes:

Many thinkers…have argued that studying philosophy is learning how to die. If that’s true, then we have entered humanity’s most philosophical age — for this is precisely the problem of the Anthropocene. The rub is that now we have to learn how to die not as individuals, but as a civilization.

He also writes:

The biggest problem climate change poses isn’t how the Department of Defense should plan for resource wars, or how we should put up sea walls to protect Alphabet City, or when we should evacuate Hoboken. It won’t be addressed by buying a Prius, signing a treaty, or turning off the air-conditioning. The biggest problem we face is a philosophical one: understanding that this civilization is already dead. 

The truth is that things are both more and less hopeful than Roy Scranton suggests.  We still do have to learn how to die as individuals, to cultivate healthier attitudes toward death, to learn new ways of coping with loss on a grand scale.  Civilization has allowed the human population to swell to wildly unsustainable numbers and to densely populate inherently dangerous terrain.  To use the word “invasive” would not do the situation justice.  Natural disasters take on an unnatrual scale when they collide with mass society.  We are building on the sand and are shocked when the tide comes in.

Climate change fueled disasters kill vast numbers but each person dies an individual death: it may be trapped in an attic with water levels climbing the stairs, unable to scratch through the roof to the open air above or it may be in a nursing home without power succumbing to the latest heat wave.  Less spectacularly, death may come after working in the mines seeking out the rare earth metals necessary for smart phones and solar panels.  Like nonhuman animals going to slaughter, the numbers are at times so vast as to overshadow the fact that each death is its own tragedy.  No matter how long the kill line is; it’s a horrifyingly novel experience for each particular individual.

Ten thousand deaths in the Philippines boggles the mind not equipped to process such numbers; in many ways the outpouring of grief after the Boston Marathon bombing seemed greater, perhaps simply because the numbers were smaller and more readily understandable.  It is difficult to meaningfully grieve for 10,000.

Fortunately, learning to die as a civilization is not nearly so tragic.  It is enormously difficult but not tragic.  It is indistinguishable from learning to live.  It is a metaphorical death similar to the rites of passage in an individual life; it is moving on to something greater even if the transition is uncomfortable.  If I were writing Mr. Scranton’s editorial I would have titled it “Learning to Live” for we know all too well how to be dead, we’ve been dead for a very long time now.  It may be why zombies are currently so popular: it is difficult to understand how we can be dead and yet continue to kill.

Civilization is dead; we just have yet to put it in the ground and walk away.  Eventually the company of a corpse will be too much to bear and we’ll be forced to move on to something better.

(Credit to Bob Dylan for the title of this post)

Breathing Life Into the World

The landscape moves as I walk.  This is a straightforward fact; I regularly observe it first hand.  It’s not an inference derived from an elaborate argument relying on abstruse or otherwise questionable premises.  It is a baseline starting point and not a conclusion.

Trees that are indistinguishable from a distance step apart from one another and become individuals.  Mountains alternate between hiding and asserting themselves.  The ground under foot rises up and can boost me into the sky.  Water sometimes rushes and sometimes meanders; it can travel a direct course or a more devious one.  The wind can hold me back or push me forward.

It takes more effort , circumlocution, and sophistry to deny this easily observed fact than to accept it and yet denial is currently the norm.  The evidence of one’s eyes is treated with great suspicion if not altogether discarded.  I can see mountains move—I suspect we all can—but to say it out loud is almost a heresy and makes one vulnerable to the ridicule that has always been the lot of truth-tellers.

The preferred discourse is that mountains are stationary and that as we walk our view of them changes; we are active and mountains are passive.  For the moment at least, I do not wish to deny the truth of this claim but rather highlight the fact that it’s a style of speaking that is quite miserly with respect to agency; needlessly miserly.  It is a style of speaking that doesn’t foster respect for others but rather deadens the landscape and alienates people from their own bodies asking them to pluck out their eyes.

Two radically different styles of speaking may have equal claims to being true and yet have significantly different consequences; when this occurs we need to seek out additional criteria for how to proceed.  We can opt for a style of speaking that highlights the moral significance of others, that has such reminders built into its very structure and vocabulary or one that lulls us into indifference or hostility undercutting out empathy.   The language can make certain questions more or less difficult to ask.

A straightforward example would be how we refer to individual animals.  Referring to animals with words such as “he”, “she”, or “who” sends a different message than using the deadening language of “it”.  The practice reminds us that animals are individuals.  Animal experimenters and their apologists often refer to “specimens” or “animal models” which serve to undercut the fact that they are doing great harm to others.  The former practice might suggest we learn about other animals through close but respectful observation whereas the later style of speaking sharpens knives and prepares cages.

We need language that unapologetically breathes life into the world.

Acknowledgement: this post was inspired by the the trees who live on the mile long stretch of land between my parents’ house and Lake Ontario.

Letter to the Editor re: “Raids to Free Minks…”

Letter to the Editor re: “Raids to Free Minks Ups Ante on Animal Rights”
Submitted: October 17, 2013
News outlet: The New York Times

“It’s our livelihood. They’re trying to put us out of business,” was the defense offered by mink farmer Virginia Bonlander whose business was targeted in the recent surge of raids that have been carried out by animal rights activists [“Raids to Free Minks Ups Ante on Animal Rights,” Oct. 16].

Bonlander’s defense of killing animals is both curious and commonplace.

That something “is one’s livelihood”—that one financially profits from engaging in a particular activity—cannot be allowed exempt that activity from moral scrutiny.  If anything, being paid to harm others may exacerbate, rather than mitigate, the offense.   That one has built their life around harming others and does so as a means to support themselves is reprehensible in a way that is quite different from someone who may harm others in a less calculated manner.

Yet this defense is commonly advanced by people in industries where the raw material is living, breathing animals who are then violently transformed into consumer products.  The assumption that profit is a legitimate defense must be challenged.

Gary and Virginia Borlander Photo credit: Darren Hauck for The New York Times

Gary and Virginia Borlander
Photo credit: Darren Hauck for The New York Times

Fleeing Humanity, Trees Head for the Hills

Any fool can destroy trees. They cannot run away; and if they could, they would still be destroyed — chased and hunted down as long as fun or a dollar could be got out of their bark hides, branching horns, or magnificent bole backbones.

–John Muir, Our National Parks

There are few safe places in the world for trees: few places where they may stand unmolested, in the company of their fellows, leading full lives, concluded only by a natural death, and a return to the forest floor.

A recently published study in Nature Communications found that “human impacts have resulted in a global tendency for tree cover to be constrained to sloped terrain and losses to be concentrated on flat terrain.”   Researchers suggested that “steep ground may act as a refuge for trees in human-dominated landscapes…because sloped terrain is more difficult to clear, benefits obtained by clearing are lower or the incentives to abandon cleared land are greater.”

Like the homeless men and women who seeks refuge in the most marginal spaces of the city so as to go unnoticed by cops and thugs, trees are compelled to seek out terrain that is difficult for their mammal predators to reach.  If the ground in which they have taken root is coveted, if it is commercially viable, they will be removed.

Furthermore, what is marginal today may not be deemed marginal tomorrow meaning that safe spaces are conditional and temporary; as the researchers say population increase “increases incentives to clear and utilize marginal land.”  Trees exist at the discretion of people and the decision to grant them space is always able to be re-negotiated.  Over 2.8 billion hectares of forest have been lost due to agriculture since 1850 and yet it is those who object to continued cutting who are deemed inflexible and unreasonable.  The goalposts of environmental destruction are always being moved; negotiations never take into account all that has already been lost or, more accurately,  all who have already been killed, converted to board feet, and sent through chippers.

In a very real sense, trees are fleeing.  They are running for their lives.  But humanity is in hot pursuit.

FISHTrees5

“Tree Dreams” by Mr. Fish (www.clowncrack.com)

Soft Technologies: Radical Life Extension

In an earlier post on this blog (“Soft Technologies and Animal Experiments”) I suggested that we should not look to new technologies, as conventionally understood, to replace animal experiments and/or address all of our medical ailments.  Rather, it was suggested that we might “explore and develop new ways of coping and/or caring for one another that do not require our current industrial infrastructure.”  I referred to such approaches as “soft technologies”.

One area of research that may be better addressed with soft technologies than with animal experiments and hardware is longevity or radical life extension.

Longevity studies carried out on animals—including rodents and primates—have yielded conflicting results.  Studies have often taken the form of subjecting animals to a calorie restricted diet with individual animals receiving 30 or 40 percent fewer calories than would otherwise be deemed healthy.  That is to say, animals have been forced to live the whole of their lives in a semi-starved state in hopes that humans might figure out a way to live longer than they currently do.

Other attempts at life extension have included developing new pharmaceuticals and even genetic engineering.  Of course, both of these strategies cost animals their lives.

Moving from longevity studies to so-called “radical life extension” one inevitably encounters Ray Kurzweil.

In 2005, Ray Kurzweil (along with Terry Grossman) released a book titled Forever Voyage: Live Long Enough to Live Forever and in 2010 he (again, with Terry Grossman) released Transcend: Nine Steps to Living Well Forever.   The titles are meant to be taken literally; Kurzweil, in fact, believes that he himself has a reasonable chance to live forever and that those who are born today have an excellent chance at immortality.  I am not sure what, if any, population control measures he anticipates being imposed if his vision of immortality is realized.

In contrast, is an idea I gleaned from Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Coming to Our Senses: Healing Ourselves and the World Through Mindfulness:

“if you want to slow down the inner feeling of your life passing, and perhaps passing you by, there are two ways to do it. One is to fill your life with as many novel and hopefully “milestone” experiences as you can…[t]he other way…is to make more of your ordinary moments notable and noteworthy by taking note of them…The tiniest moments can become veritable milestones.” (p. 163)

Kabat-Zinn suggests that many people actively pursue the first strategy.  It often takes the form of exotic vacations, extreme sports, and other big experiences.  I suspect he might include recreational drug use on such a list.  It is difficult for most people to successfully pursue such a strategy for any significant length of time.  It may be financially prohibitive or it may end in injury (or addiction).  It’s resource intensive.

His second method is seemingly available to everyone.

It may at first seem that a crude sleight of hand has been performed.  Surely, Kurzweil and those who starve laboratory animals would not be satisfied with the Kabat-Zinn solution.  It’s unlikely they would see it as even answering there concerns; it might be said that if it’s an answer, then it’s an answer to a different question.

But what Kabat-Zinn’s solution does is call into question the starting assumptions of Kurzweil and the longevity studies.  Whereas the former are strictly zeroed in on the number of years and days between birth and death, a purely quantitative approach; Kabat-Zinn offers a qualitative solution by providing a method for us to make more of the time we do have, to live a rich life and not merely a numerically lengthy one.  Kabat-Zinn rescues and re-affirms the value of the subjective experience of one’s life which is important because subjectively, almost any amount of time can slip away if it’s not savored and if we aren’t mindful of it.

Kurzweil and company are essentially seeking to give an addict more money in hopes that he or she will make it last longer.   Kabat-Zinn aims to cure the addiction…and without putting animals in cages!

"A 23-year study comparing calorie restricted rhesus monkeys, left, to normally-fed monkeys, has shown that calorie restriction may not increase one's lifespan."

“A 23-year study comparing calorie restricted rhesus monkeys, left, to normally-fed monkeys, has shown that calorie restriction may not increase one’s lifespan.”