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Archive for June 26th, 2017

The world’s population currently consumes the equivalent of 1.6 planets a year, according to analysis by the Global Footprint Network. Photograph: NASA (For source see link)

O YE THAT ARE LYING AS DEAD ON THE COUCH OF HEEDLESSNESS! Ages have passed and your precious lives are well-nigh ended, yet not a single breath of purity hath reached Our court of holiness from you. Though immersed in the ocean of misbelief, yet with your lips ye profess the one true faith of God. Him whom I abhor ye have loved, and of My foe ye have made a friend. Notwithstanding, ye walk on My earth complacent and self-satisfied, heedless that My earth is weary of you and everything within it shunneth you. Were ye but to open your eyes, ye would, in truth, prefer a myriad griefs unto this joy, and would count death itself better than this life.

(Bahá’u’lláh: Persian Hidden Words, No. 20)

I think this sequence of posts is looking a bit over-ambitious. It’s not because I’m not sure what to say but because I have too much to cram in. It could be difficult to make it clear and coherent. However, the issues involved keep bugging me and won’t shut up in my head so here goes.

Global Responsibility

Setting spiritual reality aside at least for the moment (but not for that long!), there are still so many influences upon us and impacts from our actions that are almost or completely invisible in different ways for different reasons.

As Timothy Morton points out, in a recent Guardian interview:

‘There you are, turning the ignition of your car,’ he writes. ‘And it creeps up on you.’ Every time you fire up your engine you don’t mean to harm the Earth, ‘let alone cause the Sixth Mass Extinction Event in the four-and-a-half billion-year history of life on this planet.’ But ‘harm to Earth is precisely what is happening.’ Part of what’s so uncomfortable about this is that our individual acts may be statistically and morally insignificant, but when you multiply them millions and billions of times – as they are performed by an entire species – they are a collective act of ecological destruction. Coral bleaching isn’t just occurring over yonder, on the Great Barrier Reef; it’s happening wherever you switch on the air conditioning. In short, Morton says, ‘everything is interconnected.’

Naomi Klein expands the point to deal with why we do nothing as a collective even when many of us are fully aware of the problem as individuals. The measures we require to take (This Changes Everything: page 21) ‘are now in conflict with the fundamental imperative at the heart of our economic model: grow or die.’ We shouldn’t discount, as well though, population growth. It’s unfortunate that the idea of growth focuses so much on either the economy or population and so little, at national and global level, with how we grow and expand our consciousness.

Klein adds:

What the climate needs to avoid collapse is a contraction in humanity’s use of resources; what our economic model demands to avoid collapse is unfettered expansion. Only one of these sets rules can be changed, and it’s not the laws of nature.

According to Matthieu Ricard in his thought-provoking book on altruism something that should help is a growing awareness that growth cannot continue (page 658):

In the eyes of the politician Anders Wijkman and environmentalist Johann Rockström, there can be nothing more perverse than an economy that grows at the expense of the raw materials that allow it to exist: ‘The world’s population is growing. Consumption is growing. The only problem is that the earth is not growing.’ . . . .

In short, as the English-born American economist Kenneth Boulding said: ‘Those who believe that economic growth can go on forever are either mentally deranged or they are economists.’

Not all economists though fortunately.

There is, for example, a growing trend, Ricard argues, for economists to discard the treacherously misleading GDP as a good guide to whether we are doing all right or not. Because (page 660) ‘[i]t ignores social costs, environmental impacts and income inequality’ it is worse then useless: it is leads to toxic decision-making. Its fundamental insanity is revealed by its inclusion as positives what are in fact evidences of dysfunction (page 667):

If a country has more crime, pollution, war, and disease, GDP increases as a result of financial transactions relating to expenditure in prisons, policing, weapons, and healthcare. This increase enters the accounts as a positive indicator of a growing economy, even though it represents a decline in well-being.’

Ricard acknowledges that (page 679) ‘we must . . . not underestimate the importance of personal transformation.’ From there we must move to the wider society within which we live and, in Ricard’s view (page 681), learn to balance what Mintzberg calls the three-legged stool of a ‘public sector made up of political forces…, a private sector made up of economic forces…, and a plural sector of social forces embodied by robust civilian conveyances.’ It is in the development of the latter that the UK and America, who over-emphasise the private sector, and China, who places too much importance on the public sector, are seriously lacking.

There is yet another step to take.

We must move (page 682) from ‘community engagement to global responsibility.’ To do this it is necessary ‘to realise that all things are interdependent, and to assimilate that world view in such a way that it influences our every action.’ He sees altruism as the key to this transition.

There are obstacles though to the full realisation of the need for this key and our ability to turn it in the lock of obstinate resistance.

Undetected Influences

We may also be subject to undetected external influences that shape our behaviour outside our awareness.

Advertisers have known for decades that subliminal stimuli can influence our behaviour and persuade us to buy a product without any awareness on our part that this has happened. This is why such adverts were banned. This is why drug companies keep spending lavishly on lunch time presentations at GP surgeries, leaving behind lots of innocent looking memorabilia plastered with their logos and drug names to subliminally jolt the memory. Studies comparing surgeries that have been visited in this fashion with those that have not indicate that the beneficiaries of drug company lunches prescribe the drug in question more frequently than they used to whereas the control surgeries do not. The GPs themselves believe their prescribing patterns have not changed.

Hypnotic suggestions, as is widely recognised, can subliminally affect our behaviour long after the trance is over.

Admittedly we do sometimes control our responses to external information but not always in wise or fully conscious ways. Confirmation biases cause us to ignore information that contradicts beliefs we have invested in and swallow uncritically anything we’re told that proves we are right.

Even our memories can’t be trusted. There is a self-serving bias in memory.

For example, when anyone used to ask me to tell them about situations where my declaration as a Bahá’í brought me into conflict with the assumptions of my profession as a psychologist, I was a touch too happy to share the story of the time I went for an informal interview for a clinical post soon after I qualified. I was walking with the neuropsychologist, I would say, down towards her office. She was dressed in a white coat so she looked like a doctor from the back. The only thing missing was a stethoscope.

As we walked she cast a sideways glance at me and said: ‘Thank goodness Blackmore has finally put paid to the idea of God, don’t you agree?’

‘Not really,’ I distinctly remembered saying. ‘I have an idea about God that I believe in.’

She glared at me, as I vividly recalled it, and we walked the rest of the short way to her office in silence.

I come out of that version of events reasonably well and believed, until late last month, that this was exactly what happened, not that I’ve had cause to tell that story in recent years. I believed it until, that is, I read my journal of that period looking for the page reference. Imagine my feelings when I discovered, in my own hand-writing, an almost completely different version of events. First of all it happened in September. I didn’t hear about the Bahá’í Faith until November. First hole below the waterline. I wrote:

She wore a white coat [at least I got that right] with her name written on a badge. My revulsion against psychologists who wish to masquerade as doctors was barely containable. And when I heard her mouthing with obvious contempt such things as ‘. . . .people who don’t realise that the mind is not separate from the brain’ I did not know what to say. . . . .

All I could say was ‘I haven’t thought about it a lot.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that . . . very sorry . . . I’m very sorry to hear that indeed.’

Quite why I couldn’t fight back I don’t know. Perhaps my feelings were running too high – they were certainly strong by this time. I just wanted to get out, I think.

According to my journal I mumbled some jargon strewn with impressive names but basically ducked the point. I believed the mind was not reducible to the brain but couldn’t say so. So, it was nothing to do with God and I copped out anyway. Memory’s junk sunk.

These two accounts, though they have a kernel of common truth, couldn’t be more different. When I had become a Bahá’í I did speak out, but definitely not then and not in the way I convinced myself it had happened. I clearly didn’t want to remember my craven evasion so I backdated my eventual moral courage and believed my own propaganda.

Potential Damage

If we pause to reflect a moment we can clearly see many of these processes at work, some of them in potentially damaging ways.

We now believe the earth both spins, and revolves around the Sun, even though all we experience are the changing seasons, the alternation of day and night and the slow creep of the shadows along the ground.

We now believe that all the solids that we handle and sit on are made of atoms, which, like microscopic planetary systems, are made up of specks and space. More space than specks by far.

We now believe that light is both wave and particle, even though all we see for the most part are constant colours or bright consistent lights.

Most of us in the West do not believe, though, that souls who have passed on can move matter they have left behind, even though the evidence that they can is piled high in libraries worldwide, as David Fontana testifies in his comprehensive survey of the evidence.

Why do we believe the scientist who says most of the chair I’m sitting on is empty space, and not the painstaking investigator who sees a table rise up to the ceiling having proved no human hand or machine could possibly be involved?

Perhaps one of the many possible reasons is that most of us are happy to take the findings of science on trust until we feel they conflict with our perceived material interests.

Is that why climate change and departed souls are met with so much disbelief? To believe in both of those requires us in different ways to step outside our egotistic materialism and accept our interconnectedness, to set aside our personal advantage in the interests of the many, and to make sacrifices for the common good.

In spite of all our blinkers, we behave as though all we do is carefully chosen in full knowledge of the consequences and causes. Such complacency cannot safely be allowed to continue any longer. Our survival now depends not upon our evolutionary heritage of tunnel vision approximations to reality but upon our transcending these limitations as rapidly as possible both as individuals and as a species. If not, extinction beckons.

Can we do that? A consideration of this will have to wait till next time.

 

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