Category Archive

As I was retrospectively thinking one day, I remembered Carol Kendall’s The Gammage Cup. I first discovered this book in the fourth grade. The storytelling was fantastic, but I also remember being intrigued by some of the messages of the book–issues such as authority, conformity, and expression. I re-read the book a year later, enjoying it as much as the first time, and then it somehow ended up in a garage sale and disappeared from sight.

I just finished reading the book for the third time in my life (which for me is rare for any book), confirming my suspicions that I took to heart some of the themes Kendall brought out in her novel. As children the simple fact that our view of the world is limited allows our imaginations to think of worlds that might be, to examine things we do not yet take for granted–and to laugh about the absurdity of it all. A brilliant piece of cultural satire, Kendall’s novel touches some profound questions of society, religion, and being alive. This book certainly helped guide my thinking and critique of the world, which I’m certain was no mistake on the part of Carol Kendall:

Children are a marvelous audience…they remember what they have read! Sometimes they remember it all their lives!

Sometimes I think it’s easy for us to forget that we are part of a food chain. Granted, we have no predators and are therefore at the top of the food chain, but this position relies on an intricately connected system of support that allows organisms to persist. If the bottom collapses, though, the reprocusions will be felt all the way up through the top.

Part of this forgetfulness stems from the change in food production with the advent of civilization. Nowadays most people have no direct role in food production as these jobs are left for a small group of farmers, breeders, and herders, and even modern farming practices–which reserve land exclusively for human use–obscure our place in the food chain. Conversely, the hunter-gatherer way of life exposed most of the tribe to the process of collecting food–in land that was shared for food by humans and other creatures–emphasizing that our food comes from living creatures, who in turn get their food from living creatures, and so on. This realization is easy to escape when perusing a supermarket; but it is nearly impossible to avoid on the hunt.

Personal identification with a particular category–especially when concerning beliefs or lifestyle–is one of the ways we seek communal association.

There is a sense of security when identifying with a community. Instead of stating their own beliefs and opinions (e.g., “recycling is good”, “Shiva is supreme”, “erotic pie fights are fun”), many people will cling to a collective identity that encompasses these beliefs (e.g., hippies, Hindus, pie fetishists).

These communal associations are sometimes helpful but sometimes harmful. Certain associations provide real benefits of community, but others simply act as a security mechanism to keep people from feeling alone with their ideas. There is nothing inherently wrong with this (since we are, after all, social animals), but categorical association can sometimes lead to the diminishing of independent critical thought or the pigeonholing of others into categories of your own.

Communities in our society are more nebulous than tribes, yet we can still gain communal knowledge from these associations. This knowledge is more than descriptions of simple facts, processes, or techniques; instead, knowledge gained from communal membership applies to the way in which we should live.

Within each community, we are all continual teachers and continual learners.

We can neither create nor destroy energy. As a result, the Earth system and Solar System (and, of course, the Universe) are composed of a discrete system of particles that can be rearranged and perhaps transformed, but never eliminated.

Inhale, and your lungs are filled a legacy of Earth’s past: the air that a triceratops breathed 65 million years ago; the early remnants of the planet’s atmosphere; the byproducts of photosynthesis across time and the globe; the carbon of people who live today and who lived a million years ago; dust from lunar and Martian rocks; remnants of extinct forms of life that once thrived; traces of the early Solar System, when Earth was just forming. Exhale, and release this innumerable and unfathomable history, contributing your own story to this endless cycle.

The exceedingly complex interactions and couplings of the biosphere exemplify our interdependence and immersion in the community of life. This connectedness is exemplified with each and every breath we take. The community of life pervades even the air itself.

The evolutionary mechanism is not a linear process of ever-increasing increasing complexity (as is unfortunately still sometimes depicted in textbooks with this classic linear human evolutionary sequence) but instead produces a tree of increasing genetic diversity.

Speciation occurred because genetic diversity is beneficial for survival. Environmental shift can cause the extinction of any single population; if there are two different populations, though, there is a greater chance that one of them will survive. The diversity of species is a device for protecting the continuity of life on Earth. Certain species may not be able to withstand catastrophic flooding, meteorite impact, or climate change as well as others, but throughout Earth’s history there has always been some species capable of continuing the community of life. Complexity is a product of this genetic diversification, but greater complexity does not have any more inherent “goodness” to it.

Diversity is the fundamental good.

We are hardly the most important, significant, or successful species on the planet. Even the most triumphant of human achievements is diminished in the context of life’s history on Earth. Our achievements as a species are part of what makes us unique–as can be said for every other species–but these do nothing in our self-designation as the dominant form of life on the planet.

Instead, we are the storytellers of the world. As humans we explore, investigate, and think, creating memories to form stories of ourselves, each other, and our world. We cannot consider ourselves superior or inferior in the community of life, but we should certainly acknowledge that thus far we are the only species endowed with this special gift of storytelling. We do not tell stories simply because we can; rather, we tell stories because it is part of who we are.

What if every day were a sacred day and every moment a holy moment?

From the perspective of organized religion or simple pragmatism, this may seem impractical or absurd. But then again, perhaps this view of the holy is a healthy, sustaining, and necessary component of that which binds us to the world, each other, and the community of life.

One of the defining traits of our species is what we call intelligence and self-awareness. Too often, though, these traits are cited as a defining separation between man and beast; that is, owing to our intelligence we have somehow transcended the animalistic level.

Ignoring for now that this view presumes no other significant life forms other than animals and humans, this still ignores the notion that human intelligence–just like any other trait–developed over time with selection effects. Intelligence makes us superior to lizards in the same way that wings make birds superior to us. We value intelligence only because we posses it. And since our culture has lost a connection with the community of life, we often interpret this value as superiority at best–and a mandate to dominate at worst.

The vast majority of people alive today will never have the experience of living in a tribe.

The death of one is the life of another. All creatures on the planet are thus bound.

SETI initiatives and other projects to search for intelligent life often assume they are looking for a single intelligent species–perhaps similar in some ways to our own–that has achieved mastery over their home planet. The modern global civilization views itself as separate from the biosphere, and as a result has continued a self-destructive pattern of increased consumption and growth. This civilization views itself as the masters of the world, the single most important and dominant species on the planet. Search for life initiatives implicitly assume any contact they make will likewise be a single “superior” species.

This notion is relatively recent, though, compared with the duration humans have existed on Earth. No species is an island, since life cannot exist outside of the community. Although the global human civilization views itself as separate from the community of life, this pattern of thought is ignorant and ultimately self-destructive. Likewise, any long-lived extraterrestrial intelligence (at least that resembles what we know in some way) will be part of a community of life. If we ever make contact, we will reach an entire community–not just a single species.

This weekend marks the 4th annual Locust Grove summer weekend. As I packed up my car, I considered the reasons for looking forward to the weekend.

Seclusion. There is no such thing as “getting closer to nature”; we are biological creatures, so anything we do or make is still natural. However, spending time away from the sights and demands of civilization make it easier to reflect on a time when all humans on the planet (including our ancestors) lived as hunter-gatherers. And on top of that, a secluded location necessitates disappearance.

Music. I enjoy playing music, and I enjoy listening; but for me music is a need. Music is powerful, and music creates memories. As Tower of Power put it, “The music makes you happy, or it can make you sad. It can turn the worst day into the best you ever had.”

Community. We spend most of our days interacting with various groups of people, many of which are unrelated. Before the (recent) advent of human cities, the tribe was the primary human social unit. It is difficult to recreate all elements of tribalism, especially in a weekend, but even a temporary experience of the tribe is worthwhile.

Off I go! Be back on Sunday.

A revision to an earlier post, this time with just one statement.

If you take more than you need, then you might develop addiction–and addiction is self-destructive.

Human vocalization is highly specialized for intra-species communication. In many cases, though, non-vocal conversation can be as precise and can lend itself to inter-species communication.

Anyone with a dog or cat already knows this, but I think it applies even beyond domestic animals, primates, dolphins, and whales. All life on the planet is part of one community, and communication within any community is essential for longevity.

This story posted at Whiskey River is an interesting parable with some markings of traditional Eastern tradition, but it brings to mind an even more fundamental question about our culture’s concept of utility.

A tree is considered useful if it has qualities that are desirable for people (such as food or building material). If we removed every useless tree, however, we would find ourselves in a lot of trouble. The “save the whales” campaign drew criticism because many people did not see an inherent benefit that whales brought to humanity (or to civilization). The biosphere is intricately connected in ways that we are continually discovering, however; and just as introduced species fail due to oversight, our designation of uselessness is really just an indication of our ignorance.

The notion of the individual soul has persisted since the Greek philosophers and is taken for granted by many (most?) people of our culture. From an individualistic salvationist point of view, this makes sense: each person has a unique spiritual entity that can be saved or damned.

If human beings are in fact gifted with a separate spiritual entity, we arrive at a question: at what point in evolutionary history did the soul become part of an organism? Perhaps we could extend the notion of a soul to all living creatures, so as not to be anthropogenic. This brings us further along the line of questioning: what constitutes an individual organism? Plants, animals, and fungi all share a recent ancestor when comparing to the biological tree of life. Are individual bacterial cells considered individual organisms capable of possessing a soul? Can a bacteria collective contain a soul? At which point in the evolutionary tree did it become possible for an organism to have a soul?

We may like to think of ourselves as individual beings, but just like every other species on this planet we cannot survive apart from the community of life.

A cave carved by a river is natural and abiogenic.

A bird’s nest is natural and biogenic.

A human-built shelter is natural and biogenic (and anthropogenic).

A spiritual being that transcends the physical world is supernatural.

Outside of the products of imagination, what, then, is unnatural?

We are dependent on the community of life because we are members of this community. We do not transcend the community of life simply by being at the top of the food chain.

The Archean Earth had a very different climate compared with today. Earth was probably slightly warmer (and ice-free), with greenhouse warming provided by a carbon dioxide and hydrocarbon atmosphere. Oxygen levels were low, so these hydrocarbons could persist without photolyzing and escaping.

Around 2.3 billion years ago, this all changed. Photosynthetic bacteria grew in numbers and drastically altered the climate of the planet. As Earth became oxygen-rich, atmospheric hydrocarbon concentrations would have decreased, which may have triggered a global glaciation event that is observed in the rock record. Furthermore, much of the life that had developed on Earth could not persist in an oxygen-rich environment. In short, the rise of atmospheric oxygen was one of the most drastic episodes of climate change in Earth history.

Was this natural?

I don’t particularly find this question to be useful–because everything in the biosphere is natural! This includes humans, too. Our culture has identified its contribution to an increase in greenhouse warming, but this is not “unnatural”. Cyanobacteria use photons to gain energy via photosynthesis, and some people use gasoline to gain energy via combustion. It doesn’t matter if we use machines or if we knowingly decided a course of action: we are a part of the biosphere just as much as every other living thing on the planet.

True, we have the ability to see our effects and change our course of action, but we are not a special creature on this planet. We are not exempt from the laws that have governed life for 3.8 billion years, and it is harmful to pretend that we are above these laws. Climate change is a real problem today, and hopefully one that we can resolve; but referring to climate change as “unnatural” is a meaningless designation. Everything is natural.

A person walking along the beach who sees a pocket watch on the ground might think, This is not a natural occurrence. But a person walking through the woods who sees a nest in a tree will probably think, This is a natural occurrence.

Humans make watches, and birds make nests. Why is one natural while the other is not?

When most people think of life on Earth, they think of things they can see: plants, animals, and occasionally fungi. Most of the time, people don’t realize that these organisms are only a small fraction of the diversity of life on Earth. Take a look at the tree of life post I made back in May. Each branch shows a different evolutionary path, only one of which ends up producing the visible, multicellular life we are so acquainted with. If you think horses and ferns are vastly different life forms, try comparing them to methanogens; you’ll find that the life we see has a lot more in common then we typically think.

(In Minnesota for Thanksgiving break.)

Where do you draw the line between life and non-life? Is a virus considered life? What about stars? It seems reasonable that there is no concrete distinction that can place things into two neat little bins. It is easy to accept that categorizations as these fall along a spectrum; viruses are lower on the spectrum than squirrels, for example. But many people would still have a problem placing stars on this spectrum, even though stars exhibit some of the properties of other living things (and perhaps to a greater degree than viruses).

I would venture to say that everything–everything in the Universe–shares in this life force to some degree. Squirrels exhibit this life in a more obvious way than granite, but these rocks are still not completely dead. After all, we have seen that the Earth system itself can act as a unified living system with regulating mechanisms. Instead of trying to distinguish between life and non-life, and instead of trying to create a continuum that includes some things but excludes others, perhaps it is more fruitful to view the entire community of all things as sharing in the same life force. As humans, it is easy to point to squirrels and dolphins and see this life force, but viruses, stars, and atoms share this as well. It’s all alive.

I have referred to the Earth as the self-regulating system of “Gaia” in several entries (including yesterday). Gaia has existed for approximately 4 billion years, and has so far managed to keep the planet consistently favorable for the presence of some life. This life may not always be human life, but the continuity of the community of life has been preserved.

However, if we look just one rock closer to the Sun we notice another unusual planet. Venus is about the same size as Earth and may share similar internal features; it is also possible that Venus once had oceans–and perhaps even life. It is difficult to prove or disprove this, but in any case Venus may be an indicator of Earth’s future. As the Sun slowly warms (possibly in concert with Earth’s own warming) our planet will eventually enter a runaway greenhouse state, leading to a drastic rise in surface temperature and cloud cover. If this mechanism becomes the dominant force in Earth’s climate, it could lead to the end of the entire community of life. I would not be surprised if Gaia is even more resilient than we assume; but even so, Gaia may not be invincible either.

Just yesterday I saw an interesting George Carlin video clip on environmentalism and our relationship with the planet. At first it seems like general criticism of certain environmental movements, but as he continues he actually raises some very important points: namely, the planet is not in trouble; it is people who are in trouble.

What about plastic? Although partially comedic, Carliln raises an interesting point about the disposal of non-biodegradable plastics. After all, the planet has been around for over 4 billion years, while humans civilization has only existed for around 10,000 years–and only a fraction of these years involved plastic production! The Earth system (or Gaia, if you prefer) has been able to regulate itself against severe climate and cosmological changes, which has led to both speciation and extinction. Individual species come and go, but the community of life has so far been persistent. We are part of this community, but we often like to view ourselves as separate, so the thought of our extinction can be frightening. But if a species is not beneficial to Gaia, then regulating mechanisms will tend to eliminate said species. And maybe Gaia just needed a plastic component in the biosphere system. Humanity’s purpose in the community could be the production of plastic goods that will fully enter the Earth system once humans have disappeared.

It is impossible to know the direction of a Gaian mechanism, but it is also unwise to try and fight one. And as long as we consider ourselves apart from the global community of life, we will always pose a threat to Gaia.

There is no universally agreed upon definition for classifying something as “life” or “non-life”. Let’s take a look at the conventional definition of life on Wikipedia (which is actually one that is presented in science at times). By this criteria, we can argue that stars are living organisms.

1) Homeostasis: Stars regulate their internal environment to maintain a constant state of hydrostatic equilibrium (in the first order, with more complexities when convection is considered).
2) Organization: Stars have a distinct structure, with a core and various layers that are specialized for particular functions.
3) Metabolism: Stars produce energy by nuclear fusion between hydrogen and helium. This process can occur in a variety of was, depending on the chemical composition and size of the star.
4) Growth: Stars have a complete life cycle that includes birth, growth, and death. Main sequence stars brighten ~30% over their lifetime, after which they “age” into other stellar types (depending on their mass).
5) Adaptation: Stars are able to adapt to changes in the environment, including but not limited to gravitational adaptations; binary star systems exhibit this in particular.
6) Response to stimuli: Stars respond to gravitational and radiational stimuli (and perhaps others).
7) Reproduction: At the end of a star’s life cycle, a metal-rich planetary nebula and/or supernova containing the star’s parent material is ejected into the interstellar medium. This material forms a cloud that begins the stellar life cycle all over again.

So there you have it: stars are alive! Either that, or we still aren’t quite sure how to define life.

Last day of Pale Blue Dot III

No life form is an island. That is, while separate species with unique behavior exist, they are all interrelated in the complex community of the biosphere. Certain ecological groups are more isolated from others, but no ecological group exists to the exclusion of the biosphere.

When discussing space exploration, colonization of the moon, Mars, and beyond invariably come up. While humanity may develop the technological prowess to build a permanent colony away from our home planet, it is interesting to think of the impact of willingly leaving our biosphere. Whether space colonization takes the form of artificial cities or terraforming, the idea of transcending the ecological interactions on which we have been dependent is a bit unnerving–although perhaps also a bit exciting. Maybe it is just the skeptic in me, but if we are unable to successfully introduce a species into a foreign ecosystem I doubt our ability to estimate the long-term consequences of removing a species from the biosphere. But then again, perhaps the drive for exploration is all the sustenance we will need.

I just received a $5 bill with a red “Track this bill at www.wheresgeorge.com” stamp on it. There have been a few other times I have encountered such a bill, but this time my curiosity was stronger (and I was already sitting in front of an open web browser), so I surfed over to the site and entered my bill’s serial number. I was a little disappointed to see that there was only one other entry for this bill, from Wattsburg, VA. So my bill has travelled “134 Miles in 1 Yr, 104 Days, 19 Hrs, 16 Mins at an average of 0.29 Miles per day” according to Where’s George.

I registered for a free account, so I’ll get to see where this bill eventually travels; and I may enter a few more bills sometime. But I did find it interesting to look at the bills with the most activity. Here’s the most frequently recorded bill in the database, a 1999 series $1 bill:

“But…how much does it cost? It won’t be free forever.”

I have been faced with similar responses when discussing the merits of Linux, the Mozilla projects, and other open source software. The cynics are usually middle-aged businesspeople–or their children–who have succeeded financially only because good were not given away. The fact that a modern free webbrowser can rival (and exceed) the capacities of a commercial Microsoft one is a mystery to many–corporate types, but others as well.

The difference is only partially an issue of money. In many ways, it is more of a difference in worldview. The traditional businessperson sees a group of potential consumers; these consumers can be provided with a product for a profit. In other words, this is a client-server model, where services and payment are expected and immediate.

The open source movement, on the other hand, functions more as a community. People contribute what they desire and are able; this may be the development of a Linux kernel, beta testing of new software, or helping out on a public forum. What about those who contribute nothing? Well, since the functionality of the community is of higher priority than profit, there is nothing that mandates participation from everyone/anyone. But it comes with a safeguard, too: if everything is automatically free, there is no problem with would-be freeloaders–that’s the whole point! And if someone wants to take open source software and develop it for profit (which happens), there is often a branch that continues to develop under open source guidelines.

This is not really a culture of generations, although it may seem that way at times. Really, this is a culture of the Internet. Because information is readily and globally available, and because people can communicate with little regard to physical boundaries, the open source movement was able to take form–and this foundation is a means for insuring the continuation of the movement.

The can of 7-up sitting on my desk advertises “Now 100% Natural”. But what exactly does this mean?

All of the matter present in our Universe came into being at the moment of the big bang. Nucleosynthesis in stars formed heavier elements out of hydrogen and helium, but no new matter has been created. So the use of matter in food/beverage products is always natural.

“Natural” might refer to the ability to find a particular ingredient in “nature”, but this becomes rather subjective. Is a bird’s nest natural? After all, the bird had to manufacture the nest. Or what about the bird itself? Three billion years ago, there were no birds on Earth–does this mean birds were a natural phenomenon that were not yet part of nature?

Perhaps then, “natural” refers to the absence of human intervention in a particular step of the product development. What happens, then, if chimpanzees are trained to manufacture products (7-up, or automobiles, or computers)? Do these products become “natural” by the lack of human involvement in production?

In any case, I grew up in the “land of 10,000 lakes” and never encountered a pond filled with the Uncola; the natural 7-up still remains elusive.

Often in conversation, if it were relevant to point out that there is more to life on this planet than human life, the typical response would be something like, “Oh right, there’s animals, too.”

What strikes me as interesting is the fact that non-human animals are not even the most visible form of life on a daily basis (for most of us). Unless you live in a purely concrete jungle, you probably encounter grass, trees, flowers, shrubs, and a number of other organisms that could not–even in the most colloquial sense of the word–be considered “animal”. And, of course, some species of fungi are sometimes visible, as are certain bacterial strains. The diversity of the microscopic world is generally missed by the human eye, but the visible diversity of life beyond the animal kingdom is certainly obvious.

But plants don’t move around, and plants don’t have a central nervous system, and in many cases this is sufficient for casual exclusion when discussing the community of life.

Life is sacred.

Well, many people will say they have such a view. But if forced to elaborate on their opinion, what they really mean to say is that human life is sacred. For some people, this is religious in nature (humans have a “soul/spirit” while other creatures do not). However, there are still many people who maintain a religious viewpoint is not crucial to the particular sanctity of human life. In this case, if forced to chose between a human life and a dolphin life (for example), the human life would always be chosen because the human life has more value (whether by virtue of intelligence, civilization, societal structure, or a number of other factors). What about two dolphins versus one human life? Three dolphins? Even if there is a religious justification for the inherent value in human life, there must be some number of dolphins N such that the value in preserving N dolphins is worth the loss of a single human life.

And of course the question doesn’t end there. How many earthworms have an equivalent value to a single human life? How many acres of rainforest? How large a bacterial colony? Of course I have no way of quantifying this value in life, but the automatic assumption of (nearly) infinite value in human life does not seem reasonable to me.

The observation that mitochondria have their own unique set of DNA when compared against the rest of the cell is an indicator that in the development of the cell, a symbiotic relationship was formed. That is, cellular mitochondria may have been independent organisms that became incorporated into a larger cell structure for mutually beneficial reasons. Although we recognize this as an evolutionary development, today we refer to the system as “a cell”, not “a cell and mitochondria”. The degree of symbiosis is such that to the human eye there is a single functional unit.

At what point does is this distinction made? A cell without its mitochondria may not be able to produce enough energy on its own to survive. So what about humans? If not for a symbiotic relationship we share with certain bacteria in our digestive systems, we would die. Certainly we share a significant symbiotic relationship with these organisms. But when we want to refer to “a person”, is that inclusive or exclusive of the symbiotic bacteria? After all, the bacteria could find another non-human host where they could survive just as well–but the human would not fare as well without the bacteria. While the cell and mitochondria have evolved to be mutually interdependent, the human-bacteria relationship seems to lean a bit to one side.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I’ll just let the image do the work today.

What, then, is the story that we are told (and that we tell)? Humanity is the apex of creation. It may not always be explicitly taught as such, but this notion is implicitly held in most of our worldview. I chose an evolutionary framework for telling the story because it makes the bias more obvious–but it is clear in many of the world’s mythologies (again, used in the true sense of the word). For some religious interpretations it may in fact be necessary to view humanity as above the other creatures, but I am not convinced that this is the healthiest outlook. Like it or not, we are part of a community of life, and “waging war” against the planet/community by asserting our superior status only acts to exclude ourselves from this community. And because the rest of the planet functions as a community, exclusion inevitably leads to the end.

Is there a religious view, then, that places humanity within the community of life and not as the ruler of the planet? There is (in a way), although it might be hard to call it a “religion”. But I’ll just leave this as a teaser for now.

Consider a simple ecosystem in balance (that some people may recognize from Ishmael by Daniel Quinn): lions, gazelle, and grass. The gazelle eat the grass, lions eat the gazelle, and the grass gains nutrients from the activity of both animals. It is easy enough to see that if, for example, there is a lot of rain and the grass becomes particularly rich and plentiful, the gazelle population will increase. As a result, the lion population will also increase with their food supply. Conversely, in a period of drought, both animal populations will decrease.

But now what happens in a period of severe drought (or freezing, or other catastrophe)? With no grass to eat, the gazelle population would vanish, followed by the lion population as well as the grass. Although this ecosystem was in equilibrium and could withstand minor perturbations, a significant shift in climate or other external forcings was sufficient to eliminate the system.

So, how does nature protect against this? Simple: lots of life, in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and environments. Death is not unnatural, nor is extinction. Nature (or Gaia, as some of us prefer for poetic reasons) does not act to preserve any particular species, but rather strives for the longevity of the community of life. Why save the whales? Because someday, whales may be the hope of this community.

A proposed method for carbon sequestration is to pump liquid CO2 into the ocean at a depth where CO2 would be more dense than seawater (due to compressibility effects). This would result in a “CO2 lake” at this level of the ocean, and could potentially serve as a reservoir for atmospheric CO2. This idea was shot down due to the fact that CO2 is also highly soluble in water, which means that in ~1000 years (the timescale for oceanic overturning) the CO2 would return.

But what about the oceanic ecosystem? People seem to care a lot about big furry animals (save the seals, whales, manatees, pandas, etc.) yet show almost no regard for the possible disruption of other habitats. What about the phytoplankton and tubeworms? They might not be cute and cuddly, but they arguably have a more significant impact on the climate system than pandas. Yet where oceanic sequestration is concerned, no one seems bothered by the fact that a large population of organisms would have their habitat significantly altered (or even destroyed). Many of our attempts to introduce a species into a new environment have been met with disaster; I cannot imagine that we could foresee all the consequences of disrupting a fundamental oceanic ecosystem.

If tubeworms were furry, would it make people care?

I don’t generally make this kind of entry, but this is one of the most interesting and inspiring things I have seen on Postsecret.

—–Original Message—–
Sent: Monday, April 10, 2006 1:46 PM
To: Postsecret Guy
Subject: My Secret

Frank-

My dad reads this site every sunday.
My sister and I have a lot of problems, many of which involve my father or require his attention.
This is our last hope.
Dad, if you can recognise who wrote this, then please, please, please understand.
Thank you.
—————————-

How can life persist? Fundamentally, life is the maintenance of a process out of equilibrium. Life needs to be able to extract free energy from its surroundings (sunlight, soil nutrients, other organisms, etc.), and it needs a method for transporting this energy. I would also maintain that life requires some method of reproduction. But in order to accomplish any of this, there must be a barrier of some sort to prevent a state of equilibrium. Simple hydrophobic-hydrophilic membranes in cells are an excellent example of maintaining this separation. But the idea of systems maintaining a state of disequilibrium is still intriguing, to say the least.

The Gaia Hypothesis is a nice excersize with case studies such as Daisyworld, but often the discussion ends there. Of course, “Gaian” mechanisms were present all throughout Earth’s history, regulating the climate in order to preserve the existance and future of life on the planet. And ~4 billion years of continuous life on Earth are testament to some sort of regulating mechanism; whether you want to call it Gaia or biosphere feedback (or God, or Shiva, or FSM) is not terribly relevant.

But now consider the “impending doom” of human-induced climate change. Has humanity risen to the point where Gaia is dead? Do we have such a mastery over this planet that regulation has been taken from Gaia and into our hands? Phrased differently I think many people are of this opinion: the marvels of civlization and technology are certainly indicitive of humanity’s conquest of the planet. But Gaia is still working, perhaps even stronger than ever. The only purpose of Gaia is to preserve the continuity of life on Earth–but not necessarily human life. If humanity is indeed a threat to the rest of the biosphere, then the simplest means of preserving life would be to remove the offending species. And what better way to accomplish this than to allow humanity’s own activities to be its downfall. Gaia is not a supernatural being or force, but is simply an expression of the history of life on this planet. Climate change has been an integral part of Earth’s history, and it is neither a good or bad thing. But every climate change has been accompanied with mass extinction; mass extinction can be good for the community of life as a whole, but can mean bad news for individual species–in this case, humans.