The wisdom of whales · 2009-07-23
Some people think whales are superior to us. Whereas we make shiny tools, cetaceans concentrate on socialising (to a degree of complexity we shouldn’t presume to grasp). While we consider it intelligent to manipulate our world, they are content to live in harmony with theirs.
But judged by the yardstick of freedom, we humans are undeniably successful. We lead better lives than ever before, increasingly free from material need and suffering and arbitrariness. There has never been less poverty, less disease and less warfare than today, in 2009 (just check the stats). And that’s with 7 billion of us, up from a few thousand just a couple of (evolutionary) moments ago.
It’s because of those shiny tools. We have mastered our environment, with ever more sophisticated technology to meet each new challenge. Global warming is the approaching hurdle. It will be cleared just like the others, if the past is any guide.
Such is the spirit of the 1960s, of Star Trek and space odysseys. Logically, the next step is to free ourselves from mortality, to let minds break free of bodies, to become star children. The idea is known as transhumanism, and — no scoffing — it’s thoroughly reasonable. For what does freedom mean, otherwise?
But there’s a problem. A terrible, deal-breaking conundrum. The problem is that to be meaningful, good things need bad counterparts. Pleasure needs pain (or at least a lack of pleasure). Experience of hope needs experience of despair, optimism depends on pessimism. And life needs death. The philosophy of immortality is simply insoluble. Life, like youth or marriage, has value precisely because it happens only once.
The ultimate freedom is therefore impossible in principle, and searching for it is futile. In the end we cannot master our destiny, not even in theory.
Perhaps whales understood this before we did. Or at least before I did.
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