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Man and the Nature of Things
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Man and the Nature of Things
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From the knowledge gained through the scientific method, man has changed fundamentally his way of life; more so on the North American Continent than anywhere else, but the change is fast spreading over the whole earth.
Man can, if he has good eyesight, see a speck a hundredth of an inch in diameter with fair distinctness. But he cannot discern any detail within that speck. However, if he should place that speck under a high-powered microscope -- that is, magnify it by some 400 diameters or more -- it then displays an amazing intricacy of detail. Thus, one realizes that his ability to discern things is very crude when it comes to viewing the lower categories of size. But rarely is an individual aware of just how crude are his powers of observation. The use of some imagination may help to clarify this point: Suppose that this speck, a hundredth of an inch in diameter, were magnified to the size of a ten-foot cube, or the size of a small room in a house. Then suppose you take a speck from this enlarged cube -- a speck which again is only a hundredth of an inch in diameter -- and, in turn, magnify this speck to the size of a ten-foot cube. The structure of this second cube probably would appear to be made up of small specks, possibly visible to the eye. These would be molecules or, at most, atoms. You would need still much higher magnification if you were to study the details of atoms, things like protons, neutrons, electrons, mesons and such. And you would have to advance into still another category of magnification to see individual photons. In other words, if we should take a speck that appears just barely larger than ``nothing'' to our senses and magnify it into a cube more than twenty miles to the side, it still would not be enough magnification to reveal to the eye all the details of which that speck of material is composed.
When we contemplate the size of things in the other direction, we find that our powers of observation are again too restricted to view with any clarity the greater expanses of reality -- the magnitude of galaxies and beyond. Only when we look at a galaxy from a distance of millions-of-trillions of miles does it assume any kind of shape. The galaxy in which our solar system is located appears as a pattern of tiny light specks all around us in the sky at night -- too many light-specks to count, with millions of others so tiny that they appear only as ``fog'' -- yet, each of these specks is roughly equivalent to our sun in actual size and brilliance. So vast is space when contemplated in terms of our insignificant range of observation that we cannot even imagine where it ``ends'' or what the ``end'' is like -- or if it has an end.
On the one hand, man is a huge, crude monster in a world of infinite detail -- himself a clumsy pattern of organized confusion, whose very outlines are so vague that they require the perspective of ``distance'' and grossness of vision to be clear at all. On the other hand, man is so tiny, so delicate, so intricately organized as to seem out of place in a realm that is made up of whirling, swirling bodies, many thousands or even millions of miles in diameter and usually billions or trillions of miles apart.
When we turn to a contemplation of time, we are as limited in our perspective as when we contemplate space. About the shortest unit of time that we can distinguish is a tenth of a second. Even a fifth of a second, the frequency of a watch tick, appears to be almost nothing from the standpoint of time. Yet, we know from other evidence that a second is a tremendous period of time in the realm of microcosmic events. A ``billionth of a second'' seems like a fantastically stupid thing even to think about with our crude concepts. It would take thousands of them to add up to ``no time at all.'' However, it is established by science that one second of time is equivalent to 186,300 miles of distance through space. It follows, that in one second of time, there can be crowded as much consecutive detail as could be found in 186,300 miles of space. And we have already mentioned something about the detail that exists in only one-hundredth of an inch of space.
When we pick up a telephone and talk with someone thousands of miles away, we may casually wonder how the impulses that carry the voice can be relayed back and forth at a speed which appears to be instantaneous. This wonder becomes drowned in incredulity when we learn that the impulse is relayed by electrons -- millions of relays per inch of wire -- over thousands of miles of distance. When we grasp this fact, if we ever do, we are somewhat prepared to understand a little about the speed of changes occurring within an atom -- such as those that nuclear physicists talk about. There, within the atom, billionths of a second take on the proportions of ``hours.''
We conceive of time in terms of some physiological ``ticking'' that takes place in the time-perception ``center'' of the brain. Certain chemical and physical conditions tend to slow down this rate of ``ticking'' and time seems to pass rapidly; at other times, as during a fever, for example, the rate of ``ticking'' is speeded up and time ``passes'' very slowly. But, in terms of events in the microcosm, this frequency of ``ticking'' in the brain is so slow that the ``ticks'' would appear to be ``years'' apart.
When we invert the time scale and proceed into a contemplation of the ``eternities'' of the past and future, we become as lost in the vastness of macrocosmic time as we were in the vastness of macrocosmic space. In considering the probable age of the earth, science speaks in terms of billions of years; and, in speaking of the ``evolution'' of stars, solar systems and galaxies, the periods of time involved become inconceivable. Like space, the vastness of time passes out of our comprehension. Where is the ``beginning'' and ``end'' of time? They are not to be found within the limits of human concepts. And they will remain so until some Einsteinian formula is devised which will define them for us.
Thus, in the wide ``spectra'' of space and time, the range of human experience is but a narrow line; and from this narrow line of experience, we try to perceive all reality. It is so far beyond our grasp and comprehension that, in desperation, we tend to retreat into some vague emotionalism regarding the universe and the things in it, which, for lack of ability to define precisely, we term mysticism. This mysticism is an escape from reality and from a stern intellectual approach to the meaning of things. It is analogous to seeking an understanding of nature through the emotional stimulus of a musical composition. It may ``do something'' to the individual but it teaches him nothing about the universe.
Science has been accused of lacking a soul -- a feeling of mysticism toward the universe and the natural events around us. To the extent that this accusation is valid, science has been able to advance man's knowledge. While individual scientists may, to a greater or lesser degree, experience the emotion of mysticism -- perhaps even be stimulated in their researches by it at times -- the discipline that we call science cannot be influenced by it at all. To the scientist, nothing is sacred, nothing is mysterious, nothing is ``beyond'' science. So, as science is applied to the different facets of reality, we learn more and more of that reality, and almost all of what we thought or felt we knew about it before has to be discarded. The true scientist may be awed by what he learns, or bewildered by the results of his researches at times, or inspired by surprise findings; but he does not seek escapism or ``meaning'' in the ``opium den'' of mysticism. He may take an interlude from the discipline of objective observation and ``cold'' intellectualism to seek recreation -- for his ``soul'' -- in music or poetry; but he does not carry this mysticism back to the laboratory with him.
Thus the scientist is able to help in the advancement of man's knowledge of reality, penetrating into realms far beyond the limits of man's crude senses of observation and often beyond the limits of his former imagination. Whether this knowledge will turn out to be good or bad for man, or whether it will be satisfying to him or not, is a matter for speculation.
In other of its branches, science has greatly expanded man's knowledge and appreciation of energy, in its various forms and magnitudes. Energy varies in magnitude from the quanta manifested by movements within the atom to the cosmic forces that move galaxies. Within this vast range, man is able to experience directly only a very small segment, measured in terms of dynes to thousands of kilowatts. Indirectly, man's experience with energy is advancing in many directions. The chief energy at the disposal of primordial man was the energy of his muscles, derived from the food he ate. Now, through science and technology, we have proliferated the applications of energy to human use, in quantities, varieties and magnitudes. These applications of energy are changing our whole way of life.
The branch of science dealing with the study of matter has removed the mystery from that field of knowledge. It has enabled man to weigh quantities of mass varying from an electron to a giant star. It has enabled man to analyze the structure of matter down to its basic molecules and beyond. We have learned how to separate molecules into their component atoms, how to rearrange the atoms to form other kinds of molecules. The chemistry laboratories and chemical industries attest to man's expanding knowledge and use of matter in its various forms and of his ability to create new forms more to his liking. Lately, man has progressed another fundamental step. He has been able to break some of the atoms apart, to rearrange the parts, and even to construct entirely new kinds of atoms; and in the process he can release fantastic quantities of energy.
As the scientist rejects mysticism in the physical world and views it with clear, objective vision, he broadens our understanding of nature with knowledge that serves us well and on which we can depend. With this knowledge man can do such things as send radio messages through space, make and drive automobiles, move hills and dam rivers; he can take pictures and turn darkness into light.
The phenomenon that appears to force a retreat into mysticism more than any other in the physical universe is that of life. Undoubtedly, life is the most puzzling of things to the casual observer. There is so much that he does not understand when he views living things casually in their gross aspects. The biologist approaches the study of life from various directions and views it in different perspectives relative to time and space. While there is much yet undiscovered about life, it is not a mystery to the biologist, and he does not have to escape into some cult of mysticism to feel at ease with it.
The protoplasm of living things is made up of the same chemical elements that occur in the soil, the water and the air. Its activities are all accountable for in terms of energy transformations which are fairly well known to the physicist. The structure of protoplasm is intricate and its basic details are extremely minute; and its organization is highly complex. Consequently, protoplasm is not easy to study. But it is not mysterious. Let us contemplate in their fuller perspective some of the principal aspects of life.
Living things have been on the earth for at least a billion years, probably closer to two billion years. It is also probable that the earth existed in somewhat its present form for a billion or more years previous to that, before any kind of living matter came into being on it. How the first chemical organizations took place which eventually gave rise to incipient protoplasm, or where or under what conditions, is unknown; but they did take place. The key to the beginning of life must have been some chemical compound or mixture that could, by a series of fortuitous chemical changes, take elements from the environment and recombine them to produce more of itself. Once this process became established, chemical diversification could set in, wherein the self- reproducing material could generate complexities and variations, over long periods of time and in a great variety of environments. Eventually -- no doubt after millions of years -- this pre-living material evolved into the realm of complexity comparable to that of simple proteins. Then, through many more millions of years, pre-cellular agglutinations of these proteins evolved into being by a tedious process of ``trial and error'' selection.
When protoplasmic units comparable to modern viruses and the simpler bacterias had evolved, organic life was well on its way; and its evolution into modern life-forms was primarily a matter of time -- a billion and a half years, or so -- and a planetary environment that remained stable within the ranges of protoplasmic tolerance. Organic evolution proceeded without direction or goals, implemented by sporadic additions of new chemical compounds that could be perpetuated, either by self-reproduction or as by- products of the compounds which were self-replacing. There was only one criterion for the perpetuation of any form -- ability to survive. This was also the criterion for the diversification of forms. The variations that could survive in either the old or some new environment were those ``chosen'' to continue their lines.
As mutations accumulated in the self-perpetuating chemicals of the protoplasm and the environment was overrun with an increasing variety of organisms, all of which tended to overproduce their numbers, the struggle for survival became more severe and more subtle. Any naturalist, today, knows something of the severe struggle that every organism has for survival and the cruel competition that besets it from all sides.
The so-called cell, which has become the unit of life and structure in all of the larger and most of the smaller organisms, appears to have developed its general form some billion or more years ago, and it has undergone but little fundamental change since then. Evolution of life over this billion or more years has dealt mainly with an increasing complexity and divergence of cellular combinations and cellular specializations. Within this time, cells came to live together in accumulations, instead of individually; and these accumulations -- loose associations at first, then gradually developing into more highly organized ``societies'' of cells -- tended to develop internal complexities, with different cells specializing on different functions. Eventually complex organizations of specialized cells became established as different species of multi-cellular plants and animals, and man is one of the more recent of these.
Looking more closely at man, one variety of the many millions of kinds of organisms that have diversified from the earliest organic forms, we learn that he is a highly complex organization of cellular units which are not much different in their fundamentals from the cellular units of corn, flies, or jellyfish. Different varieties of cells are combined into specialized accumulations known as tissues -- nerve tissue, muscle tissue, skin, gland tissue, bone tissue, etc. These tissues are arranged into organs -- heart, stomach, brain, hand, eye and so on.
The whole body is coordinated chemically and physically, by electro-chemical impulses moving along relays of nerve fibres and by chemicals carried in the blood. The body and its parts behave in a variety of ways, depending on the circumstances and the kind and force of external stimuli. This behavior is remarkably similar in similar individuals under similar conditions; and it can be predicted with a great deal of preciseness. The functions of the body and their coordination are precariously balanced and behave ``normally'' only within a very narrow range of conditions. An upset in some physical or chemical factor can affect the coordination and behavior of the whole organism; for example, and intake of alcohol, of drugs, of certain foods, or electrical shock, a severe temperature change, or an invasion of bacteria.
Now, let us take a closer look at the cell, which is the organized unit of life. The human body is made up of about a billion of these cells per cubic inch, each cell being about a thousandth of an inch in diameter. A generalized cell would be more or less cubical in shape, surrounded by a thin membrane and filled with a semi-gelatinous material, the protoplasm. Within the cell is a smaller, somewhat spherical body called the nucleus, and this contains a different form of protoplasm from that in the rest of the cell. The nucleus also contains structures made up of denser material called chromatin; and this chromatin contains the complex self-reproducing chemicals which determine our heredity and development,
Should we take one of these cells, a billionth of a cubic inch in size, and enlarge it to the size of a ten-foot cube (we are only speculating now, since this act is not as yet feasible), we would see that it is very complex in detail -- not only in structure, but in activity as well. The protoplasm would be seething and changing, undergoing thousands and millions of chemical changes in different little parts of the cell, accompanied by rapid changes in electrical potential between parts and areas within the cell. Most of the specific actions would take place in very minute fractions of a second of time. Materials would enter through the cell membrane and these would be attacked chemically; some burned to produce energy and waste products; others altered into chemically different substances, some more complex, others less complex; some materials would be stored, others secreted. If viewed as a whole, the cell processes would be more complicated and confusing than a thousand-ring circus. Yet, it would take a thousand of these cells lumped together to make a speck large enough to be visible to the human eye.
When the body processes which supply the cells with raw materials for their chemical ``factories'' and carry away the waste products fail to perform effectively, the function of the cell is disturbed. Due to lack of oxygen, glucose, water, or some other material, or due to an excess accumulation of carbonic acid, lactic acid, or some other waste product, the cell may not be able to carry on its basic functions; and in severe cases, it ``dies.'' The cells die as individuals. When enough of the cells die, the whole organism may cease to function, and it is said to be dead. Although the organism as a whole may appear dead, the individual die separately, and some may remain alive for days after most of the others are dead; particularly those of the skin which can obtain oxygen directly from the air and do not depend wholly on the blood to bring it to them. Tissues have been isolated from the rest of the body and kept alive under favorable conditions for weeks or even years after the organism as a whole is dead, merely by supplying them with chemical requirements and removing the waste products under favorable conditions of temperature and moisture.
Man is a biological accident, one of the end products of more than a billion years of haphazard evolution. The probability of any particular species being on the earth today, in terms of the beginnings of a billion years ago, is much less than one in a trillion. Therefore, should all life be wiped off the earth and evolution start all over again from inorganic materials, there is no chance at all that a species similar to man would again evolve. Should only man be wiped off the earth, the chances of another human species evolving from the remaining life forms is zero. Likewise, the chances of another intelligent equivalent to that of man evolving from any other life form on the earth today is extremely remote. Both man and his degree of intelligence are the kind of accidents that are likely to occur only once. There is no valid reason to suppose that it could happen again, here or anywhere else.
Man, when he came along, had two organs which gave him an advantage in the struggle for survival over his competitors, although everything else seemed to be against him. Man lacked natural weapons of offense and defense; he did not have horns, hoofs, sharp claws, or protective armor. He could not run fast or climb well, as compared to certain other animals. His skin was without sufficient hair to protect him from the cold. However, he did have a complex brain and a grasping hand. Because of these two advantages, man was able to survive and eventually to dominate the earth.
Man is a member of the Primate order, which includes the apes, monkeys, lemurs and others. Man is more closely related to the apes in structure and function than the apes are to the monkeys. And he is far more closely related to a dog than the dog is to a lizard, or even an opossum.
Like many of the other primates, man inclines toward sociability and away from rugged individualism. Sociability first developed among man's ancestors on the family level, later spread to loose associations of families, then among members of the present species it advanced into complex tribes and nations. Some advantages of early social life were: better protection from enemies and the elements, more efficient food gathering, and specialization of functions. One of the chief disadvantages was the facility of spreading contagious diseases.
The characteristic which set man off from other animals more than anything else was his ability to accumulate knowledge. This was made effective by social living, people learning from each other and passing what they learned on to succeeding generations. But, even so, this process took more than a million years to advance man's social status appreciably beyond that of certain other animals.
Speech and, later, writing facilitated the process of accumulating knowledge. Speech evolved slowly; writing came into being even more slowly. It is only within the last few thousand years that human beings have been able to communicate with each other effectively and to keep records. And it is only within the last two or three hundred years that people in general have had access to the stores of knowledge.
With the advent of the scientific method, man learned the technique for discovering new knowledge. From the knowledge gained through the scientific method, man has changed fundamentally his way of life; more so on the North American Continent than anywhere else, but the change is fast spreading over the whole earth. Where science and its offspring, technology, have been at work, hardly anything remains the same.
The changes which are coming into our social lives are without precedent, and some of them are unrelated to anything that went before. Where, for example, is to be found the ancestor of the automatic factory? Or of the modern chemical plant? These things are their own ancestors! You cannot search the past and learn anything about the future of technology. Nor will anything from the past reveal what the social order of the future, based on that technology, will be like. The social order, like the technology, will be brand new. One thing is certain, the new social order, like the automatic factory, must be carefully designed before it is put into operation.
The old patterns of life evolved slowly through the millennia in response to social needs and functions. But, now, the social needs and functions are drastically changed. Thus, the social organization must be fundamentally redesigned to fit the new social needs and functions. Some details of the new design are already coming into being. The advent of agrotechnology, for instance, has caused major changes in the pattern and conduct of our agricultural operations. This change in agriculture is an advance which no one regrets and no responsible person would reverse if he could. Likewise, there will be major changes in the patterns and operations of other social features, including governance, economics, education and health.
Man's view of space and time, as we have shown, is very limited; but through science, this view has been greatly widened. Man's concept of himself and his biological history was very limited and crazily distorted until science corrected and broadened his vision. In the same way, man's concepts of society have been limited and fuzzy. Society has been evolving, changing and growing. It has been a haphazard trial and error process; never really efficient, often cruel and tyrannical. For the first time, man is in a position to design his own society and plan its future.
Science applied to the social order, as in other fields, can greatly widen man's social horizon and correct his astigmatism. Science can clear it of the fogs and wraths of mysticism. In so far as the individual is concerned, science can lengthen his life, make it more comfortable and less arduous, and provide him with the facilities and opportunities for unprecedented self-expression and development of personal interests.
The citizens of North America have the privilege of being the pioneers of this new social order based on science and technology. They have gone most of the way already, and there is no turning back. The time for collective decision to go the rest of the way is at hand, and it cannot be for long evaded without serious consequences.
Technocracy is the name which has been applied to this next state in the social order. You may well face up to it and accept it. You know you can't go back to anything that ever existed before. It is not only futile, but highly dangerous, to try dodging social change by skulking through the back alleys of war, political compromise, business finagling and superstitious ritualism.
Your place in the scheme of nature may be large or small, depending on how you perform during your short life. Whether or not your existence will be significant to the future is a matter which you can decide at this crucial time. The strata of the earth are full of the remains of biological dead-ends -- of organic forms that perished instead of advancing into the patterns of the future. The byways of politics -- whether communist or fascist, democratic or republican -- are dead ends. So is the gory trail of business enterprise. The time for extinction of these social dead-ends has come; there is no place in the future for them. You can stick with them and become dead-end fossils, too, or join with Technocracy and extend a living line into the future.