No matter in what generation you find yourself, you identify with or are influenced by the lights of your time, whether they are writers, musicians, leaders, artists, or familiars. When one of them passes, you pause to think about death, even your death. All that you know, all that you have experienced flit through your thoughts and, for a moment, disappear into nothingness. You are shaken. Then you look at your watch and remember that you have things to do and a life to live . . . yet.

I share only one thing with the artist known as “Prince.” He, like me, did not believe in time. I feel most alive when dancing with my muse or floating in the moment. It is said that Prince was prolific, that he could write a song a day. Whatever else he might have been in life, I can identify with that part of him. In a world too busy to note the only constant, Prince at least had hold of the only reality that matters.

Time passes for those who miss the moment of its passing, until it is too late to notice.

Fresh cut flowers strewn on a sidewalk
Lighted candles before a market
Such tragic testimony
Whispered voices can barely address

Caught in the moment, unwilling to leave
Neighbors linger
Clutching hands
Sharing grief and disbelief

Shuttered behind her closed eyelids
A beautiful lady stands apart
Though I’ve forgotten the lines of her face
Her inward gaze still haunts

Clothed for fall
Her hands ungloved at her waist
Thumbs and forefingers joined
Palms faced forward and welcoming all

In her moment of stillness
Born of the stars and lost in the ages
She silently weaves
Making whole
The torn fabric of humanity

AJD, April 15, 2016 (with a special thanks to E. Ross)

Perhaps being the son of a mailman has something to do with my obsessive proclivity for walking. Rarely do I miss the opportunity for my daily stroll along the San Francisco Bay. It enriches me. I only have to observe and absorb. Today, for example, I saw two butterflies dancing in the air, likely enthralled in some kind of mating ritual. They are part of a repopulation event that has been repeated for over 400 million years within the insect population. On this day, the advent of spring lined my path with the descendants of plants and trees that have thrived for as long as insects. I thought of the dinosaurs that roamed, as I do now, over similar green plains 300 million years ago. Framed within this green-scape, I came across an explosion of yellow orange wildflowers, like the flowering plants that have brightened earth’s landscape for the past 130 million years. And then I encountered a woman walking her dog and a jogger running by me, calling to mind the first humans to walk the face of the earth some 200,000 years ago. Of course, humans are part of the fecundity of nature. But somehow we are apart from it as well. Jogging, playing, building, mining, writing, painting, fighting, and so many other activities have a uniquely human trajectory. Our history, however, may or may not align with mother earth. Our planet has existed for over 4.5 billion years and has passed the halfway point of its life span. However, scientists believe it may not be able to support human life beyond another 1.75 billion years. So nature has given us an expiration date. We cannot extend it on earth. But we can shorten it. My question for the day: will we last as long as the living organisms that greet my daily stroll?

As I have already stated, walking is an obsession for me. So it is easily explainable why I love to walk the cities I visit, observing and relating to all I see. Once, my peripatetic ways led me to the beautifully manicured grounds of a Viennese government building. The building was reminiscent of another era when emperors ruled and nobility paid obeisance there. But on this day, I passed nearly alone, except for a father and his young daughter ahead of me. They were holding hands and moving at a pace the 5 or s 6 year old could manage. Then the father stopped and looked at something on the ground. His action was unexpected and startled me. I too stopped and followed his gaze. There on the path was a crumpled piece of paper. The little girl first looked up at her father, then looked down, mimicking my response. As soon as she saw the crumpled paper, she released her father’s hand, quickly picked up the paper, ran to a nearby trash receptacle, and deposited it there. As she returned to her father and took his hand, I remained standing there, watching them walk away and absorbing the significance of what I had just witnessed. Not a word had been spoken between the pair. Yet this child had obeyed the silent dictum of her father and, unwittingly, of her Austrian community. My thoughts turned to the nature of a respectful, obedient, good mannered and well behaved society. Those thoughts were comforting and made me feel secure, until the image of a people duped by the Fuhrer intervened. How can a society protect itself from the opportunism of an authoritarian who promises to maintain the security of a well-ordered society by falsely scapegoating and violently eliminating contrived threats? Now, fast-forward to the present. A German periodical recently reported that over 200 German refugee shelters were “attacked or firebombed” in 2015. Apparently, there are still a few people in Germany who want to preserve their way of life by eliminating “dangerous” outsiders, in this case, refugees.

In 2005, I had the opportunity to spend several weeks in the City of Lights. By day, I walked the length and breadth of Paris, enthralled by both the city and its people. I discovered that the French are as enamored by their culture as they are with each other. Every day was a revelation in humanism: the ideal of beauty in art, of richness in culture, and of love in the intimate moments they shared with each other and often in public. But there were parts of Paris I apparently had missed in my wandering. It was the occasion of my return from an excursion to Italy that I discovered the City’s dark side. The car radio broadcasted frightening news: a government mandated curfew had been announced because of riots and the burning of over six hundred cars in the streets of Paris. The next day I walked the streets again, but saw something different on the faces of those I passed. I saw both determination and anxiety. What I learned then about the two faces of Paris gave me context for the more recent terrorists’ attacks of 2015. Apparently, there are outsiders in France who are unassimilated into French society and who can present a threat to its wellbeing.

I have walked the streets of more than a few of the major cities in the world, many of which are in America. My observations of those American cities are similar in some aspects, yet different in general. Every American city I have visited has enclaves living outside of the mainstream culture or ideal, much like cities in other countries. The difference in America is the general nature of our society. That nature is built upon a revolutionary fervor and a frontiersman attitude towards the future. We are a strongly independent-minded, self-reliant people whose curiosity propels our future like a continuing adventure saga. We value personal freedom above all, customarily displaying an inordinate repulsion of authoritarianism in favor of egalitarianism. The latter, however, requires more of us. Specifically, it is not possible to believe in freedom for all when a significant plurality of the nation lives in poverty a/o without equal opportunity in education, in occupation, in judicial process, or in government services. Egalitarianism presumes consideration for others. Philanthropy in America gives evidence that we care for one another. We just need to have that care permeate every aspect of our culture and our politics. Without it, we breed the same outsider groups found in major cities around the world. And those groups may or may not become a physical threat to our nation as a whole; but they certainly are an obstacle to our nation’s ability to realize its full potential and the promise of its founding principles. Cities like Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, and many more are afflicted with poor, run-down neighborhoods, and angry youth whose future prospects are not promising. Nonetheless, those prospects are either America’s opportunity for gain or shame.

And so today I walk through the green mansions of spring beside the sun-sparkling ripples of the San Francisco Bay. The trees are bursting with new leaves; wild flowers brighten my path; and the first pair of Canadian geese sound the advent of an early migration while redwing blackbirds sing the commencement of their annual nesting at the local pond. The cycle of life continues. We, unfortunately, will not be part of that cycle for long if we continue to allow divisions within our societies and maintain inequality in our systems. The selfishness and greed that hoard wealth and resources are also the catalysts for the irreverent pillaging of the earth. If we continue without care, our societies may degrade into chaos even before mother earth can take our measure. Our current path through human history may not only be unsustainable, but even self-destructive. Again, I feel compelled to repeat my question: will we last as long as the living organisms that greet my daily stroll?

Normally one thinks of homogenization as the process whereby the saturated fat and milk from different cows are mixed into a blend. This blog will not, however, be about milk. The emphasis will be on the mixing and blending that is occurring daily in our world and the possible amalgam we are creating—what I am hypothetically calling a virtual Pangaea.

“Pangaea” was the name the German meteorologist Alfred Wegener gave to a prehistoric world consisting of one supercontinent. Even before the discovery of plate tectonics, he could come up with no better explanation for how species were disseminated over widely dispersed continents and islands. According to Darwin, the diversity of species required separation over a long period of time. But how was it, Wegener wondered, that paleontologists had found ancient fossil remains of the same reptiles and plants on continents separated by oceans, unless these species developed during a period when the continents were joined? He was right, of course. Eventually, the theory of tectonic plates explained both Wegener’s and Darwin’s suppositions: once the tectonic plates separated, species diversified in separate biospheres. The great diversity of life found in the fossil record is the result of this separation. But, today, that diversity is diminishing at an astounding rate. If the shrinking of our modern world resembles a virtual supercontinent, how is that effecting diversity? And why are so many species disappearing? The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) estimates 40% of the world’s species are currently at risk of extinction. Of more concern is that the rate of extinction is increasing. So what will the new Pangaea be like?

All of us have heard of the meteorite that wiped out the dinosaurs. But most species extinctions are gradual affairs resulting from epoch-length events like the earth’s periodic freeze/thaw cycles or the conflict/competition between species. Currently, the earth is in a thaw cycle wherein the earth is heating up at a rate unprecedented in geological time, that is, in hundreds versus tens of thousands of years. Biospheres that would normally attain species equilibrium over long periods are becoming stressed by the rapidity of change and the introduction of competing life forms, both invasive and predatory. These new life forms compete with the indigenous species. In the past, their impact was likely gradual, occurring over a long period of time, and may have been merely the result of chance—like the formation of a land bridge across the Bering Straits or a change of direction in an ocean current. But, in our modern world, humans can effect change much faster than evolution or geological transformation. We are actively intermingling life forms from all corners of the world and at an accelerated rate. This species intermixing is defeating environmental acclimation and symbiotic relationships that may have required thousands of years of evolution, resulting in the demise of many species, like bats, frogs, bees, and many others.

Humans are, of course, aware of the transcontinental migration of threats such as Ebola or Zika, which we carry with us in our travels. They represent an immediate danger to us. But we are less aware of other non-threatening bacteria and evasive species that hitchhike with us as well. They often destroy or compete with native life forms, interfering with the symbiotic relationships these life forms have evolved with each other and their environment. Moreover, human industrial and technological development is terraforming the planet making it both uninhabitable for some life forms and depleting the resources and space required for many others. Elizabeth Hubert refers to this unhappy happenstance as the sixth great extinction event. Her recent book, titled appropriately “The Sixth Extinction,” documents the scientific evidence which, if placed before an independent tribunal, would clearly call for the conviction of our species. Her book paints a future world inhabited by humans and possibly few remaining species. I wonder whether we can even project what species will survive besides our own. Perhaps only rats, mosquitoes, cockroaches, and an unlikely brew of microorganisms will survive in the wild. The only other survivors will be our pets and the inhabitants of our zoos. With our ability to transgress continents, we have shrunk the seas that separate us and created a virtual supercontinent, a homogeneous world that is a uniquely human concoction. But this new, virtual Pangaea may be a lonely place indeed, devoid of the rich diversity this planet has provided for millennia.

This new emerging Pangaea has several other components. Besides the growing numerical dominance of humans, there is the homogenous impact of globalization. Built on the hydrocarbon energy platform, the economies of nearly all nation states are interconnecting at an accelerated rate. This interconnection is not only visible in import/export trade, but in all aspects of manufacturing, technological innovation, and research. For example, the next generation of passenger planes is being engineered by an international corporation from component parts made on several continents. This new flying “omnibus” will be the result of a global consortium, where each contributing entity provides its Lego-like components. Herein is another example of our species superiority. We may have less than a 4% difference in our gene pool from the chimpanzee, our closest existing primate relative; nevertheless, only we have the capability for collective problem solving and collaborative action. It is this superiority that enables us to transform our world into one grand economic model that serves our increasingly urban lifestyle. When you travel to places like Paris, Beijing, Tokyo, London, and so on, you will find high rises, restaurants, commercial buildings, and retail outlets that mirror each other. Unfortunately, you will also find slums. The world we are creating is built of steel, concrete, and human ingenuity, unlike the Pangaea nature evolved over 180 million years ago. That Pangaea was teeming with living organisms where only the fittest would survive. In our new Pangaea, we define the “fittest” differently. While globalization may well lift millions out of dire poverty, it has simultaneously helped to propagate a huge disparity in wealth and a growing discontent. Regardless of indigenous cultures, the great cities of the world, however uniquely imposing, are all alike, the result of a vast global economy and a recognizable population of urbanites. They are ever expanding metropolises, scarred by inequality, like the graffiti scrawled on their walls.

Another component of this new Pangaea is the growing homogeneity created by the internet. Initially, the internet was instituted as a means for engineers, researchers, and educators to collaborate. Today, it can be a portico for all types of communication, crossing all barriers—cultural, racial, religious, political, and even personal. Recently, for instance, I discovered this blog has subscribers on four continents and my books can be ordered from online booksellers in several countries. When we communicate in this vast sea of the internet, our message can touch all shores. We are opening a dialogue that can transcend our differences and speak to our common humanity. But the internet has no filter for the undisciplined, the undiscerning, and the immoral. It can be a two edged sword. Social media, for example, can promote shared perspectives and, hopefully, mutual understanding. It is also possible that it may foment the trivial, the mundane, and the perverse, becoming no more than a gossip forum, or, worse, a haven for propagandists, radicals, and hate-mongers. Consider the recent emergence of right wing radicalism and religious fanaticism. It appears that as internet traffic proliferates, so may its messaging incoherence and the amplified polarization of its content. This aspect of the new Pangaea may reverse the Tower of Babel, but its content may become more destabilizing than the mere confusion of people speaking in different languages.

But more than the propagandized recruitment of terrorists or the xenophobic rabblerousing of demagogues threaten world stability. There are other ways in which this new Pangaea puts us at risk, perhaps more at risk than at any time in human history. For we are not only in the process of eliminating a vast majority of all other species on this planet, but of creating an interdependent global economy that despoils the nutrients in our land, pollutes our drinking water, and spews carbon dioxide into the atmosphere at the same time as we defoliate the planet of its only atmospheric cleansing system. The carbon dioxide issue is of vital, even historic concern. A consensus of scientific authorities, as quoted in a recent Washington Post article, estimates that a global temperature increase of 2 degrees Celsius (that is, 3.5 degrees Fahrenheit) will lead to “increased droughts, rising seas, mass extinctions, heat waves, desertification, wildfires, acidifying oceans, significant economic disruption, and security threats.”

Living in a global economy and a universally connected world may appear to be a panacea. Many of our world leaders believe in this type of homogeneity. Perhaps more than a few Americans believe we can or should build a new world order fashioned upon our system of capitalism, democracy and technology. But our system is not yet wholly mature: we are still building “a more perfect union.” Within our midst, we have income inequality, segregated outcasts, the environmental hazards of a growing hydrocarbon industry, and the angry voices of the despairing and rebellious filling our airwaves. Besides, our attempts to impose our system on other nation states have more often led to wars than to any form of homogeneity. The mixing of peoples and cultures in this fashion is not likely to result in a solution for the human condition, for it suspends too many indissoluble parts. The building of a new world order—a new Pangaea, if you will—must follow a different path. For the current Pangaea project is built upon a fallacy: it disregards the fundamental characteristic of our human condition. We are unique individuals. We build unique societies and cultures. What can bind all peoples together into an American or even global community is not the sameness of economic, political, and communication systems, but mutual respect for our differences. That respect is born from the love and compassion we share with our intimates AND can be willfully transferred to others with whom we share this common human experience of family and friendship. The life experience of each individual human is not felt in a sterile utopia or in a vacuous Ethernet, but in relation to other humans and to the rich diversity of this planet. Those relationships are what make us evolved super-primates and spur our collective achievements.

If a new world order is to be created, it must be built upon respect for each other and for all of nature’s bounty and diversity. However, it cannot be the Pangaea currently emerging and even promulgated by those who envision it. For that vision looks more like the poet’s description of a wasteland—a dire fate for humanity indeed.

(As a postscript I might add that homogenized milk does eventually turn sour as the fat rises to the top.)

I have to confess to a propensity for paradox, both in the titles of my books and of this blog. Do I mean to say that systems can be depressed or depressing? Well, both perspectives seem valid to me, depending upon their effect upon themselves or upon us. My intent here is to engage you, my reader, with a different way to adjudge our human systems and to envision the 21st century. Let me explain.

In an interconnected world, there is almost always a flipside to the most well-intentioned actions. The United Nations, for example, is a global organization involved in humanitarian and peace missions around the world. In order to meet its goals, it must identify patterns and interdependencies where its intervention or manipulation can be effective. It is a system like any of the systems with which it interacts. Naturally its purpose is to make these systems work well and serve humanity. Occasionally, however, we hear about its limitations: cost overruns, ineffective peacekeeping forces, failed peace talks, and so on. But do any of us understand what really went wrong or where the ball was dropped? We have a general idea of the U. N. as an organizational system without explicit knowledge of its inner working. There are many things on the global stage that are beyond our specific knowledge. For example, we know that Daesh is a terrorist organization that has opportunistically inserted itself into the civil unrest in Syria and that Russia has orchestrated a similarly opportunistic intervention in Crimea and Ukraine as a result of political unrest in Kiev. But do we know the specifics about what plans are being undertaken, what contending ambitions are afoot, or what various end states can be anticipated. Our lack of knowledge of how these and many other systems or organizations interrelate can be very depressing. We are at a point in history when we know more about world events than ever before without really knowing their roots or trajectory. Whether it is the U. N., a sovereign nation, or a jihadist group with a world domination ethos, the inner workings and prospects of these entities on the world stage are mainly hidden from view. As a result, it becomes problematic to predict outcomes and to avoid unintended consequences. The interaction of large systems can look like a pinball machine on steroids. For example, the interactions between the U. N., Daesh, and Russia has triggered trade sanctions, refugee crises, bombing campaigns, terrorists’ attacks, humanitarian aid shortfalls, and unprecedented suffering and destruction. And the cycle of depressed and depressing states persists both within and without these self-propelled systems on the international stage.

The same conflicted situation exists within our national borders. The United States is not only the world’s oldest democracy, but a recognized super power—militarily, financially, and technologically. Yet it would be difficult to explain how our government’s internal systems actually function. Few of us understand our tax system or the extent of our regulatory structure. We know there are billions of dollars unaccounted for in many of our systems: Medicare fraud, wasteful government contracts, unregistered military expenditures, tax evasion schemes, and so on. Systemic failures often raise unanswered questions. For example, why does it take years to repair a structurally unsound bridge, to file a mere report on water delivery systems, to revise legislation with unintended, even damaging consequences, and so on? What can be said about our national government can also be said about state and local governments. When faced with the depressive complexity of our governmental systems, we can become both perplexed and depressed. And so the same cycle of depressed and depressing system states persists on the national, state, and local governmental stage.

Now if international, national, and local governmental systems seem impenetrable, they may yet appear less opaque than the systems of behavior we experience with our family and work associates. Why does “Uncle Harry always get under my skin?” Why does the holiday meal with family tend unerringly to descend into the same adolescent contentions? Our family relations operate according to systems of behavior developed over time. These systems can be not only dysfunctional and difficult to change, but are often inscrutable and sometimes depressing as well. Even within the intimate relationships of family, we may find ourselves caught in a cycle of depressed and depressing states. In fact, if work place surveys are to be believed, many of us feel disassociated with the hierarchical structure a/o operational environment that govern our daily job performance. It can be easy to conclude that we are lost in a world of confusing complexity and governed by systems that function at all levels beyond our understanding or even awareness. And that conclusion is indeed depressing.

You may be wondering whether I have a cure for systemic depression. Well, I can offer an explanation that may make it easier to adjust to the many systems we encounter and are in fact creating. As we develop new technologies and further extend the scope of communications, our systems will become even more impenetrable to the majority of us. But there are at least two things we need to know. First, nature is a bundle of interlocking systems of which we are an integral part. It is as natural for us to create systems as it is for us to live. In fact, our physical being is no more than a collection of interdependent systems (Reference, “A Congregation of Life Forms”). The obvious remedy for systemic depression is to emulate nature—to create systems that interrelate and reinforce the natural systems in the world and within us. Second, we need to accept the uniqueness and limitations of the human perspective. We perceive the world after our own fashion, not as it presents itself to us. For example, we perceive the arrow of time as a constant, not as a variable relative to our place in a swirling and expanding universe. We also feel fixed in our place, not passengers riding a fast moving planet. In fact, even the fixed space we think we occupy is actually bent and curved in proportion to the mass of this planet. We owe Einstein for these revelations and science in general for an understanding of our perceptual boundaries. The world reflected in our eyes is no more than a construct of our brain’s neurons. And the same can be said of all our senses. We are of the stuff of the world in which we live and yet apart from it as well.

All animal species are part of and dependent upon natural systems. We, however, can also create systems, some of which have negative feedback loops, like some of those already referenced or the carbon based energy systems recently discussed in Paris. But I am an optimist, for I believe the 21st century can be a tipping point for our race. If we learn to build systems that enhance our nature, protect our environment, enable us to live in harmony with interrelated systems and with each other as people, communities and nations, we will rid ourselves of systemic depression and create a new world order. Otherwise, we will become overwhelmed with systemic depression. Correlated with this learning is the necessity to admit our subjectivity. Circumscribed by our senses and constrained by the limitations of our self-conception, we need contact with others and the world in all its complexity to help us solve the mystery of our self-isolation, our subjectivity. This mystery is the basis for that humility born of introspection and for that unbridled urge to connect. When we deny this mystery, we replace humility and the need for connection with the aphrodisiac of control and dominance, that is, of unmitigated hubris. We create systems that serve our self-interest while defying our human interest. This is the mystery at the heart of so many religions. Remember the Hindu and Buddhist prayerful bow in recognition of the divinity in another person, or Christ’s statement, “I and the Father are one,” or Mohamed’s equating of each individual with the human race as a whole, “whoso kills a soul . . . it shall be as if he has killed all mankind.” All religions beg the question Kant asked, “What is man.” Each of us is a world onto itself, with an overwhelming need to reach beyond the self, to relate to all we encounter, to identify with a world as mysterious as our very nature.

Given this nobility of spirit, how can we violate our humanity with the construction of so many ignoble systems? It is truly depressing to become victims of such systems. They can arbitrarily destroy lives and livelihoods. We should not create systems that degrade the individual human being: systems that discriminate against certain classes, ostracize individuals for their beliefs, deliver excessive punishments, or mistreat women, children, the elderly and the disabled. For each human stands alone before the world, dependent upon nature, yet independent in perception and creativity. Not one of us can be duplicated. If we learn to respect each and every individual, we will build systems that better serve our natural world and the human race as a whole.

In sleep you await the breaking dawn
While I lay awake in dread of light
For I will linger here in our bond
Until duty rips asunder our night

A web of hyphae I spawn at your roots
To prepare your strength like a goddess moon
So you may walk harmless in your boots
Invincible hero returning soon

One day I too will bear your spore
To complete the symbiosis we share
But not until you return from war
To rekindle the fire of the love we bear

Caressing your body in darkness now
I dread its loss and fear my plight
If you die, never to see the light,
My love entombed and out of sight

Not just your death, but mine foretold
A lover’s lament, too often retold.

AJD, 12/27/2015

Some decades ago I read a book by Julian Jaynes (“The Origen of Consciousness in the Bicameral Brain”). It seemed to address an inexplicable conundrum I faced at the time. I had been reading the Old Testament and was surprised by all the blood shed between various tribes, much of it commanded by Yahweh. I questioned what could motivate someone to kill an absolute stranger. Jaynes’ answer, as I would now characterize it, was fear, originating from the tribal culture or a commanding inner voice born from the unconscious experiences of the individual in that culture. According to his theory, the discriminatory internal dialogue that might have dissuaded that fear did not exist in the ancient bicameral brain. I wonder to what extent it exists in the ongoing tribal conflicts of the Middle East today: Turkmen against Shi’a, Turks and Kurds against each other, Shi’a and Sunni against each other, Alawites and other Syrian groups/tribes against each other, and Daesh against all tribes whom they label infidels, worthy of death.

Now evolution is a wonderful and complex process that in theory enhances the survival of a species by selecting the fittest. For example, modern man has far surpassed his primate predecessors in reasoning and development of language. But these capabilities arose from lifestyle activities that enhanced survivability. For example, early members of our species used their hands to forage and invent tools. These activities promoted the development of the human frontal lobe, the main locus for reasoning and for the ability to reflect before taking action. If my memory serves me, Jaynes theorized that trans-lateral communication in the bicameral brain evolved in conjunction with language ability, thereby allowing speech and reasoning to work together and permitting that self-talk that precedes directed action a/o procrastination. In other words, humans no longer reacted at the behest of an inner voice or habit enculturated by familial or social lifestyle. The modern human was born, free to pursue individual goals and define overriding values independently of society, thereby providing unique contributions to society. This physical evolution coincides with the creation of human culture, civilization, and a myriad of achievements in science, philosophy, art, and systems of morality. It has also enabled us to respect each other as unique individuals, not just members of disparate tribes, and to learn how to live side-by-side without killing each other. In other words, our development as a species into complex, introspective individuals governed by conscience can be attributed to our need to co-exist without fear of each other, that is, to survive as a species. Terrorism works against that need by inciting fear, tribal conflict, and the suppression of personal conscience in favor of the tribal imperative. In evolutionary terms, it appears as regressive as if birds were to lose their wings, fish, their gills, and mammals, their body heat. But the good news is that evolution is not regressive–unlike behavior.

Jaynes believed the inner voice experienced by our ancient ancestors was isolated in the right brain and was sometimes interpreted as the voice of a god, genii, or spirits. It was obeyed without thought. The followers of Daesh obey a theocratic system without any thought of its regressive nature. Naturally that system cannot be a survival technique and must be apocalyptic. Daesh’s mission, by its very nature, culminates in a dead-end. Those who follow its path must believe that an afterlife is better than the current life. There is no room for contemporary humanism, or the preservation of human life and creativity in the here and now. Though they are modern humans on the evolutionary scale, they are retrograde in their humanity, pledging themselves to a mindless tribal culture that lashes out at a world they fear and from which they feel estranged. Thousands of these sick souls have already died. Like the suicide bombers in Paris, they readily accept death, especially if they can take as many infidels as possible with them. Their hatred for humanity is the ultimate measure of their fear of joining it. To be truly human is to be accountable for all humans. There is nothing more cowardly than to deny our responsibility to each other.

Evolution may be wonderful and complex, but it comes with some baggage. Unfortunately, the nation-states our species has created still interrelate like chimpanzees fighting over territory and resources (reference “The Rule of the Primate”). We respond to danger like terrorized chimps. You may have had occasion to watch a nature channel and witnessed the loud ruckus those little monkeys create when a lion passes into their space. If at the time you had turned the channel to one of the 24 hour news broadcasts, you likely would have observed the same ruckus and fear mongering. The news media is often riveted on violence, mayhem, and, most recently, on the threat of terrorism. By way of comparison, we know that Americans have killed each other in much greater numbers than terrorist have since 911. But threats from outside seem more frightening and trigger us to raise the banner of war, even before we consider the consequences (reference “Is War Fever Enough?“). Stated simply, the lion has crossed into our physical or virtual space.

Too easily we may succumb to the feeling that war is inevitable. We are confronted with an enemy who terrorizes without conscience. This enemy engenders fear and an instinctive warlike response. But there is another factor besides Daesh’s tribal imperative and the triggered response of the terrorized. That factor is the fog of war and what is commonly called the “slippery slope.” We are already on that slop, like a snow ball rolling down a hill. In the last few weeks we have seen that snow ball gathering momentum and mass. Turkey and Russia have joined the fracas, but on different sides than America. Turkey has bombed America’s proxy, the Kurds. Russia has bombed Turkey’s proxy, the Turkmen, and America’s proxy, the Free Syrian Army. Meanwhile, America continues to increase its supply of weapons, military trainers, and tactical assistance to any group willing to fight Daesh. Our President has tried to slow the progress of that snow ball with diplomatic measures. He has pushed the Iraqi Prime Minister to include the Sunni’s in Iraq’s National Guard and tried to persuade Russia and Iraq to support a timetable for Assad to step down. The Sunni’s in Iraq will fight Daesh, as their Members of Parliament have stated, but only if granted more self-government. They will not aid, and likely will contest, either an American “liberation” or a Shi’a invasion of their territory. Likewise, no peace is possible in Syria as long as Assad stays in power. Unfortunately his army may be the only local force that could overcome Daesh. The Syrians, however, will not support that army unless it fought for a truly representative government without Assad. These diplomatic undertakings are underway, though racing far behind the pace of war’s snow ball on that slippery slope.

There are strange and seemingly random turns in history, like the assassination of a President or an Archduke in Sarajevo (think Vietnam and World War I). I believe we are now confronted with one of those pivotal moments. If Russia and Iran will not support any timetable for Assad’s departure and if Iraq will not cede any role to the Sunni’s in government or in the military, then the Syrian civil war will continue unabated and Daesh’s territorial conquest in Syria and Iraq will be ineffectively contested. More troubling is the risk of a widening war, involving NATO countries, America, Russia, and the Middle East. Today Turkey shoots down a Russian plane; tomorrow Russia arms its fighter jets with air-to-air missiles and its ground forces with surface-to- air missiles. What happens if an American jet is mistakenly taken down? Cooler heads must prevail. We are after all evolved primates who have demonstrated an ability to live together in peace. We must find a way to sheath the sword wherever we can achieve rapprochement. We should not overreact by yielding to mindless aggression and avoid wherever possible situations that risks retaliatory overreaction. Instead, we should call for a cease fire on all fronts not involving Daesh and focus on protecting Syrian civilians and refugees. If an armistice is not possible, then the only voices to be heard will be from the professionals in the Pentagon and CIA. They will strongly advocate for an escalation in the bombing, for more Americans on the frontlines to coordinate fighting with air support, and for a loosening of the rules of engagement to admit more collateral damage. The result will be more civilian deaths, more refugees, a demolished infrastructure, a terrorist backlash against the world, and a Daesh recruitment bonanza. The pivotal point I see is the balance between the deployment of sufficient military force to support diplomacy and devolution into all-out war, as some have proposed. The latter would reprise America’s Vietnam enterprise where we attempted to liberate a people by killing them off and where the embattled country required decades to reconstruct its infrastructure. Also, it should be noted, we supported a corrupt government in Vietnam during a civil war. How is that different than our support for the Iraqi government or potentially, if Putin has his way, for Assad’s government? That snow ball is gaining mass and momentum.

In time, I believe Daesh will be defeated; but its damage has already gone far beyond the borders of its self-declared caliphate. Its regressive and viral message has not only infiltrated Syria and Iraq but young minds around the world. Its message will not die with the violent extremists in Syria and Iraq or the potential terrorists already in our midst. Nevertheless, it must be confronted and eradicated. Otherwise, there will be no world peace. That peace can only be achieved by a global conscience emanating from all tribes and people. America, in fact, is trying to lead the world away from a widening conflict and toward a more stable post-Daesh horizon. Whether that horizon is feasible or not is yet to be determined. I do not disagree with those who advocate the use of military force. But force alone will not win the day. It must serve a much broader agenda—the awakening of a new zeitgeist that spans all nations, embraces the highest values of humanity, and makes tribal anachronisms like Daesh impossible.

A global conscience begins with each individual. The origin of war is rooted in our very nature: a reactive fear of the unknown other whom we instinctively deem our enemy. We objectify and dehumanize that enemy as Nazis, gooks, japs, ragheads, and so on. But there is another way to confront the objectified enemy. First, we can begin to see that enemy as fellow humans who have a different perspective than us. If we have to fight terrorists, we at least have to know what motivates them. Understanding them might allow us to reach their converts before they are turned. We have to form better relationships with the people of Islam in order to fight Islamists (i.e., violent fundamentalist or extremists). By report, Daesh may have 30,000 fighters plus another 10,000 casualties of war and a three or four times larger group of worldwide followers. Even so, they would still represent less than a fraction of one percent of the nearly 2 billion Muslims in the world. We need to develop one-to-one relations with people and communities of the Islamic faith. Second, we need to confront our fears and resist the herd mentality to either huddle in fear or react with disproportionate violence. We live in a world where nation states are armed and dangerous. If Ukraine still had nuclear weapons, would they have restrained from using them against the Russian aggressor? If an American soldier was captured by Daesh and burned alive like the Jordanian pilot was, could we be constrained from laying waste to Raqqa, without regard to collateral damage? We cannot be terrorized if we face our fears with an appropriate response, measured by reason and human compassion. And finally, we must impress upon world leaders the need for such a balanced response. Here, in America, where we are in the midst of a presidential campaign, it is imperative that we not support fear mongers and xenophobic opportunists who cater to our more basic instincts rather than our more evolved human attributes. They use mass hysteria to gain title and power. Put bluntly, they lack a developed conscience and cannot be trusted in any leadership role. Of course, I exclude from this condemnation all who constructively participate in the dialogue about the best course of action against an enemy like Daesh. I am no expert upon the difficult decisions required in taking negotiating positions between nations, in revamping rules of engagement, in deploying our military force, and in constructing the most effective anti-terror propaganda campaign. As an individual citizen, I can only do my best to support leaders who appear to deserve my trust and, of course, to make my opinions known.

Considering the gist of what I have just wrote, I would conclude by saying that war originates in our very nature, is born of fear, is magnified in collective hysteria, and is further instigated by the chaos created by the indiscriminate misbehavior of nation states and their respective leaders. If we, as individuals, think past our fears, form constructive relations with each other, including those different from us, and support thoughtful and compassionate leaders, we can at least do our part in building a more human and, hopefully, more peaceful world.

I am here in this moment
And that is all.

For “here” is where exchanging atoms,
Born in the stars,
Retell of infinity.

And in this “moment” I see before
Perception’s door
A splice of eternity.

And that is all . . . that is all.

AJD 10/30/2015

When the Pope was asked to comment on the status of gays in the Catholic Church, his response was simply “who am I to judge.” Remarkable!

At this writing Pope Francis’ plane is soaring over the Atlantic as he returns to the Vatican after an historic trip to Cuba and the United States. For the past six days, Americans have witnessed something unprecedented. You might think I am referring to the full dress “head of state” honors shown the Pontiff at the White House. Or perhaps you are amazed—maybe even stunned—by the sight of a Catholic Pope addressing Congress. These events plus the hordes of admirers that lined his motorcades and attended the various ceremonials at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, 9/11 ground zero, and Philadelphia’s Independence Square are all unprecedented. But what I find especially significant is the message he exudes in his persona and its timeliness.

When the leader of 1.4 billion Catholics says, “Who am I to judge,” he is not necessarily agreeing with your premise. He is simply not judging it. Would the so-called Caliphate of ISIL be capable of disagreeing without judgment? Would the Ayatollah? More than a few of us would have problems not judging those with whom we strongly disagree. This type of intolerance, however, is inconsistent with a democracy—though we see it regularly displayed in Congress and in primary debates. The Pontiff obviously stands for orthodoxy in the Catholic Church. And yet he can withhold judgment and respect the conscience of another whose lifestyle he might not condone. What he affirms is not the lifestyle, but the person. He is validating human beings over orthodoxy. Intolerance by its nature precludes compassion. Pope Francis, then, recognizes what is more important in both human relationships and in governance. His pastoral mission–his compassion–is for the world, not just for Catholics, because he understands what has roiled the Middle East and Central Africa, washed up refugees on the shores of Europe, terrorized the West, and even wrought uncompromising polarization in our Congress. The face of orthodoxy—religious or political—has once again raised its gargantuan head and threatens to blot out the visage of our common humanity.

There is still a fundamental difference between America and the Vatican. It is important to understand that the Declaration of Independence and our Constitution are not products of any specific religious institution. Although many of our founding fathers were religious, they created an America where all religions might be practiced, but only within the limits of the law. In other words, America is basically a secular state governed by the rule of law. Its founding principles were sourced from natural law and the thinkers of the Enlightenment. It should be noted that the first pilgrims to come to our shores were escaping religious prosecution from the state. The New World effectively broke with the European tradition of conflicting religious ideologies that spurred so much violence including the Papacy’s persecution of the French Huguenots and the Inquisition. The course America has set for itself not only favors the coexistence of diverse religious practice, but also the development of a collective conscience. Consider how our country has changed in regards to slavery, women’s rights, racial injustice, and gender discrimination. No church dictated these changes, although some of them—notably, not all—were supported by various religious institutions. The American Revolution is, as John Adams so eloquently stated, an experiment. I see that “experiment” as an ongoing self-examination of our collective conscience.

Currently, Americans seem to be crystallizing their assessment on the effects of income inequality, mass incarceration and unequal law enforcement. Perhaps Americans will eventually reach some consensus on the Pope’s concerns about abortion and capital punishment. He has quietly supported the right to life position of a vocal minority in America, but noticeably without encouraging the crazies who bomb clinics and threaten bodily harm or even death to abortion practitioners. His position on capital punishment on the other hand already has a large constituency, reflecting a growing consensus among Americans. I believe there are only six southern states that have executed convicts so far this year. Nationwide there have been only 22 executions performed to date as compared with the 98 executions performed in 1998. But I think it would be wrong to use the Pope’s moral guidance as a partisan political justification for the so-called conservative or liberal positions on these matters. We Americans have to find common ground amongst ourselves first before reaching a consensus that mirrors our collective conscience. We develop that consensus over time after all conflicting considerations have been weighed. What we have learned from this Pontiff is that consensus cannot be reached without mutual respect and compassion. His message is similar to Jesus’ when confronted with the stoning of an adulteress. Without condoning adultery, he said, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to cast a stone at her.” He might have said, “Who am I to judge?”

Such luminaries as Stephan Hawkins, Elon Musk, and Bill Gates have warned about a future dominated by robots and artificial intelligence (AI). Their trepidation may be well founded, but I believe our worst fears are misplaced if they are based solely upon AI. My most recent novel contains an AI that is enormously capable, though intrinsically benign. Like the good science fiction that I had hoped to reflect, this AI is grounded in a plausible extension of real science. It is named “Abel,” after the first born of Adam and Eve. My AI’s namesake did not exist long in the world of good and evil. My AI, however, does persist in the world without either suffering or doing harm because its original code requires two safeguards: it must solve problems by mining immense stores of data, by using algorithmically derived probabilities, and by adhering to a prime directive. The latter limitation required obedience to a human “father” who would focus the AI on specific tasks and problems and steer it away from unintended consequences. As every programmer knows, he/she will face the possibility of creating code that does not work as intended. But, with an AI, this problem can become magnified, depending upon what functions are entrusted to it. Just as legislatures too often write laws with unintended consequences, programmers can write algorithms that correlate vast sums of data and manipulate probability models resulting in undesirable results. When we see very intelligent robots destroying American cities on the big screen, we are not seeing the overthrow of mankind by artificial intelligence. We are witnessing a potential apocalypse created by man. We must protect ourselves not from the AI, as if it were human, but from bad code. There is a basis for my assertion, though it may seem rather esoteric. Please bear with me as I elaborate.

In order to establish the fact that an artificial intelligence is not like us, I must begin with a few definitions: “epistemic” means having to do with knowledge; whereas “ontological” deals with existence. Knowledge is objective in the epistemic sense when it is verifiable as objective fact. Otherwise, it is subjective or merely an opinion. Underlying epistemology, of course, is ontology or the modes of existence. “Ontologically objective existence” does not depend upon being experienced (such as mountains, oceans, etc.) whereas “ontologically subjective existence” (such as pains, tastes, etc.) does. A related distinction is between observer independent or original, intrinsic, absolute features of reality and observer dependent or observer relative. The latter is created by consciousness which, by its very subjective nature, must be observer independent. Nevertheless, there are elements of human civilization that are both real ontologically and observer relative, such as money, government, marriage and so on. Many statements about these elements are epistemically objective for they are based upon fact. But what is observer relative has no intrinsic reality without consciousness. A book has objective existence, but its content is observer relative—that is, it needs to be interpreted by a human being. A computer is a physical device that processes written code, including the code governing an AI. Any hardware or network so governed is nothing more than a machine managed by rules. It is syntactical by nature, whereas the human mind is semantic in its essence. For this reason artificial intelligence will never become conscious or self-aware. It is not like us. Its product may be real, but it will always be observer dependent, else be meaningless. When our kind invented the plowshare and trained an ox to plow our fields, the harvest was never the goal of the ox. Likewise, an AI serves the will of a human and is no more accountable for its results than that ox. It intends nothing on its own, since its action is predetermined exclusively by code and given data sources. Humans, by contrast, develop goals spontaneously out of a mix of possibilities, complicated psychological ingredients, and/or random inspiration. We define the purpose and goals that beget the many forms of our culture and civilizations. Any intelligent machine or robot designed by the art of man (“artificial,” from ars, “art,” and facere, “to make”) can only work the fields of our endeavors and serve our predetermined ends. And, finally, I doubt that we will ever replicate the mystery of the human brain in a computer for we hardly understand the conceptual source of our own creations. There is a transcendental divide between the neuron mapping of the brain and the ethereal concepts brewed in the mind. I might be persuaded that an AI will take over the world on its own account, but only when it can touch reality in a softly settling sun—that ever prodigal though faithfully returning beacon of life and the very emblem of existence itself.

We need not fear AI, any more than any other human creation or endeavor. But we should learn from our past technological advancements. For example, what should we have learned from the deployment of nuclear weapons in combat, from the extensive development of carbon based energy dependence, from agribusiness land use, from the introduction of antibiotic and hormonal drugs in our animal food stocks, from massive commercial ocean fishing, from production of synthetic foods, from large scale management of our water sources, and so on? AI, like any human technology, has both beneficial promise and potentially dangerous risks. Remember those unintended consequences. Imagine our nuclear defense system under the control of an AI—perhaps elements of it are already so managed. But the President always controls the “nuclear football.” He/she is our ultimate safeguard. When in my previous occupation I had occasion to work with an artificial intelligence, my project teams exercised extensive code testing, built-in technical safeguards, and human approval of AI suggested results before their implementation. Not to do so would have disregarded the warnings of the far more intelligent men referenced at the beginning of this article. The technology revolution has always had its risks. The uses of artificial intelligence are amongst them. Our past experiences with new technology can provide useful lessons. But, in the end, we will rise or fall on the basis of our very human intelligence.