Talk about the weather

Daniel Dennett, 06/06/13

I think it is quite obvious that language is what sets us apart from all other animals. But what is less often recognised is how language enables all the other distinctly human phenomena, transforming inherited “animal” dispositions, instincts, desires and tastes into forms that bear scant resemblance to their ancestral forms.

Humour, for instance, does not exist in other species, though something like laughter, and varieties of playfulness, make their appearance. Religion, similarly, depends on the way language permits us to dwell on puzzles and fears that other animals may experience, but cannot obsess over. We are Homo ludens, the game-playing primate; our games and sports depend on language. So, more obviously, do law and order, science, technology, art and philosophy.

Words inhabit our brains, transforming them into innovative, responsive, adaptable organs – minds – much as “apps” transform our laptops and smartphones. Chimpanzees may be, as Nicholas Humphrey has put it, natural psychologists, but they never get to compare notes, dispute each other’s attributions, speculate on motives, recount and analyse dreams, plan elaborate ruses and stratagems, make promises, tell lies, flatter, insult, console.

So utterly does language transform our minds that it is almost impossible to launder its influence from our imagination when we think of the “minds” of other species. I have called this the Beatrix Potter syndrome, thinking of our animal friends as little people dressed up in fur coats, musing to themselves, chastising each other, informing and instructing and carrying on like human beings, whether or not they wear darling little suits and dresses and live in cute little houses. Disney nature documentaries often commit the same misdirection. Of course, that tradition of (mis-)imagination goes back to Aesop’s fables and beyond, and to a certain degree, it is accurate. Nothing is more natural or useful than treating the animal that we are trying to trap or hunt – or escape from – as an agent with an agenda rather like ours, a wily and cautious self-protector, with goals and plenty of apposite knowledge to guide its pursuit of them. But when we go on to imagine the animal reasoning it out when confronted with a novel situation, we are probably being too charitable by half.

The experimental literature on animal intelligence is full of rather surprising and disappointing failures of animals to tumble to opportunities that, we think, are quite obvious. For every breathtaking feat by an octopus or a New Caledonian crow or a chimpanzee or dolphin, there are dozens of ignominious dunderheads which, after hundreds of trials, fail to see some simple task for what it is. How can animals be so smart about some things and so oblivious to others? We have to take seriously the hypothesis that they aren’t really thinking, the way even human toddlers can think (on occasion); they are perceiving and reacting adroitly, doing “the right thing” without understanding why.

We are the only species whose members try to figure out why to do things, why we have done things, and why others are doing what they are doing. We represent reasons to each other, thereby influencing each other’s behaviour. Being movable by reasons in this way makes us fitting carriers of the burden of moral responsibility. No other species can commit murder, though many kill each other. And if we now see that it is appropriate to hold ourselves responsible for the well-being of other species, we also recognise that this sets us apart from them. They may be suitable bearers of moral value, but we don’t hold them responsible for maintaining, let alone improving, the well-being of others, even of their own species. We may be dismayed or disgusted to learn that lions are likely to kill the cubs of a female with which they want to mate, and we may even feel duty-bound to try to prevent lions (in zoos, for instance) from engaging in this behaviour, but we don’t condemn them for the lion crime of infanticide. They’re just lions, doing what is in their nature. We are not like that.

Talleyrand said that language was invented so that people could conceal their thoughts from each other, a wise – not merely cynical – observation. It is the capacity of language to express our innermost thoughts and secrets that gives rise to myriad opportunities to keep mum, strategically, and to dissemble, strategically, and these opportunities furnish a productive arms race of all-too-human interactions. We are seldom wise to blurt out everything that’s on our minds, and the decisions we make about what to communicate and what to keep to ourselves are major turning points in our lives. Every playwright knows how to tantalise the audience with these forgone opportunities. “Just tell him you love him!”; “Let her know that you know her secret!” we want to call out from our seats, but we know better than to let the words on our lips find voice. Talking, and not talking, is what makes us human.

Daniel Dennett’s book “Intuition Pumps and Other Tools for Thinking” is newly published by Allen Lane (£20) This article is the fifth in our “What Makes Us Human?” series

Daniel Dennett is an American philosopher, writer and cognitive scientist

http://www.newstatesman.com/2013/05/talk-about-weather

Why the Olympics inspire us

Continuing our "What makes us human?" series.

David Puttnam, 05/29/13

For me, last summer’s Olympic celebrations served as a valuable reminder of what it means to be truly human.

From the moment the Olympic flame touched down on these islands, to extraordinary and (let us admit it) quite unexpected levels of enthusiasm, it became impossible even to brush up against those thousands of Olympic volunteers without being struck by the innate politeness, consideration, efficiency and effectiveness of swaths of our own countrymen and women.

The superbly mounted spectacle of the London Games displayed every human quality at its most vivid – triumph and disaster met and overcome. This despite the cynicism of many in the media who had been prophesying a fiasco from the day we were first awarded the Games in July 2005.

As I walked around London last summer, I wondered whether this could possibly be the same nation that has for so long been reflected or refracted, day in and day out, in our sensation-seeking, voyeuristic, celebrity obsessed newspapers – to the degree that, as the columnist Simon Jenkins recently put it, the media appear to have “gone collectively tabloid”.

This had become a world in which words get distorted and mangled to a point at which they lose all meaning – words such as “fair”, “respect”, “kindness”, “sacrifice” and “value”. The very words which, to my mind, sum up what it means to be truly human.

Yet those were also words which, over the years, seemed to have lost all value and meaning in much of the media discourse in this country, to be replaced by a seemingly insatiable interest in the misfortunes of others.

I found myself increasingly angry at the way in which, for 20 years and more, and without any apparent sense of irony at the extent of their own mendacity, sections of the media have been exploiting the rest of society; angry at the predatory manner in which they’ve pounced on our frailties, exploited our weaknesses, preyed on our fears, fanned our petty jealousies and trumpeted our inadequacies, all in the guise of “freedom of expression”.

This is a world in which, once sufficient money is involved, shame and embarrassment appear to have ceased to be any kind of brake on appalling behaviour. Possibly inevitably, our shared sense of humanity has, daily, been diminished.

Yet against that background, did the performance of a single British Olympian or Paralympian in any way shame or embarrass anybody? I would be very surprised if that were the case.

The great Irish-American philosopher and mythologist Joseph Campbell, in the seminal work The Hero’s Journey, refers to what he calls the Hero/Servant – a person who has given his or her life to something bigger than themselves. It is Campbell’s belief that there’s an element of this in all of us, but that it takes courage, and the right environment, at the right moment, to bring that instinct out in us. Again, I would contend that this is part of the essence of what makes us human.

This figure, the Hero/Servant, turns up in the myths, stories and legends of just about every civilisation since the beginning of recorded time. For me, Eric Liddell, one of the protagonists in Chariots of Fire, represents the epitome of that concept. It’s my belief that the “motto” borrowed by Pierre de Coubertin to express his Olympic ideal – that is to say Faster, Higher, Stronger – may no longer be fit for purpose in the 21st century; at least, not without the imaginative addition of a commitment to “Better”.   

And “better” should not be confused with “bigger or grander”, although you could be forgiven for believing that these two concepts had somehow morphed into one. The truth is, de Coubertin founded a movement into which he injected a set of ideals that we as human beings have aspired to for at least two and a half thousand years.

One way and another, we know we still have to find the key to what best constitutes the “flowering of our humanity” in this new and increasingly difficult century; and to fulfill that purpose we need to be able to utilise every scrap of talent and imagination we can bring to bear. The Olympic movement, exemplified so brilliantly by the spectacle of London 2012, may well represent one of the most powerful instruments we have to enable that “flowering of humanity” to take place.

David Puttnam is a Labour peer and a former film producer This article is the fourth in a series, published in association with BBC Radio 2 and the Jeremy Vine show

http://www.newstatesman.com/lifestyle/sport/2013/05/why-olympics-inspire-us

Why inhumanity is winning

It will win only if we let it. It has been said that, for evil to flourish, it takes only a few good men to do nothing about it.

Brian May, 05/23/13

What makes us human? Well, we’d have to define “human”, wouldn’t we? Apart from the trivial meaning of simply “pertaining to a member of the Homo sapiens species”, the word is usually used in two ways, which are related . . .

1) Characteristic of people as opposed to God or animals or machines, especially in being susceptible to weaknesses: they are only human, and therefore mistakes do occur; the risk of human error.

2) Characteristic of people’s better qualities, such as kindness or sensitivity: the human side of politics is getting stronger.

These definitions are straight out of Apple’s dictionary and are probably typical.

Here we see the qualities that we hope are to be found in us . . . and it’s noticeable that they are not the qualities of accumulating riches or power, or dominating what surrounds us. On the contrary, the qualities that we instinctively feel make us special as a race are the opposite of what so much of the world actually strives for. We apparently admire vulnerability, consciousness of our own weakness, and consideration of the sensibilities of other beings around us.

So it doesn’t take 700 words to define what makes us human – by common consent, it’s kindness. But if this is the general perception of what there is to be proud of in human behaviour, why is it that, when we look around, so often we see the very opposite? We see decisions being made purely on the basis of money, or to benefit the careers of those wielding power. We see people being cruel to children, to the disadvantaged, and to the other creatures with whom we share this glistening blue planet. We see people enjoying the pain they can inflict on other beings, and vigorously defending their right to do so as a “civil liberty”. It’s almost impossible to believe, but there are people at this moment working night and day to keep hold of their right to indulge in despicable cruelty.

Once upon a time it was legal to keep black men in chains, to burn so-called witches at the stake, to dig out badgers and use them as “bait” for training dogs to be vicious, to hunt wild animals with packs of dogs that would rip the quarry limb from limb. All of these things are now illegal, but there are still teams of people working to bring back blood sports – these inhuman behaviours. And they are supported by many rich and powerful people in Britain today.

It’s worse than this. Just as the laws that protect children from abuse are flouted behind closed doors, and time and time again atrocities are exposed, the laws, such as they are, against wildlife crime are routinely being broken in our countryside. Law and order have broken down. Thousands of badgers are being slaughtered and thrown on the roads. Fox hunts regularly hunt foxes to death, in contempt of the law, which the present regime is refusing to enforce. The sickening practice of badger-baiting is rife and actually increasing.

It appears that the inhuman side of humans is winning. But it will win only if we let it. It has been said that, for evil to flourish, it takes only a few good men to do nothing about it.

Perhaps, after all, the almost laughable simplistic generalisation is true. Perhaps there are two kinds of human being. On the one hand, are those who understand that we are all – human and non-human – just animals, and that the gift which has been given to Man is awareness, to make the world a kind place for all. And, on the other hand, are those who don’t “get it”; who cling to the idea that Man, or more accurately they, are the only thing that really matters on this planet, and that all other beings – men, women, children and animals – are to be used and abused at their pleasure.

It is shocking. But after the past few years, in which I have seen so much awful cruelty, and so much shining goodness, it seems to me that the good can never persuade the bad to change. The amount of wasted effort is enormous and depressing. All we can hope for is a decent, benign, compassionate government one day which will outlaw cruelty of all kinds, and enforce decent behaviour on those who cannot see that they are doing anything wrong. That has been the pattern in the past.

But are we human? Are we a humane race? Looking around at the concrete world we have created, in which the rich get richer, the poor get poorer, and the weak become persecuted to extinction, I seriously wonder if we have the right to call ourselves, as a race, human. We have a hell of a long way to go.

Brian May is a guitarist, formerly with the rock band Queen, and an astrophysicist This article is the third in a series published in association with BBC Radio 2 and the Jeremy Vine show

http://www.newstatesman.com/lifestyle/lifestyle/2013/05/why-inhumanity-winning

Culture is what separates us from the rest of the living world

A. C. Grayling, 05/08/13

According to genetics, there is not much that makes us human; depending on how you count, we share 98.5 per cent of our genes with chimpanzees. Perhaps this is not such a significant matter, given that we also share about 60 per cent of our genes with tomatoes. As this shows, human beings are fully part of nature, and the elements that make us make not just the rest of the animal and vegetable kingdoms, but the rocks beneath our feet and the stars in the sky above us.

So what does make us human? It is not that we live in social groups: ants, antelopes and sparrows do the same. It is not that we have nuanced emotional lives: so do dogs and baboons. It is not even that we have language, for other things – including trees, as it happens – have communication systems, too, and it might be that some of those systems are quite complex, as appears to be the case with dolphins, for example.       

But in the human case the system of communication – language – is particularly complex and flexible, with great expressive power, and this makes possible the phenomenon of culture. If I were to pick one thing that separates humanity from the rest of the living world, culture is it.

There are two senses to the word “culture”. It is used by anthropologists to talk about the traditions, practices and beliefs of a society in general. But it is also used to mean the art, literature and intellectual life of a society – and it is this that most spectacularly differentiates human beings from all other animals.

Think of history and literature, think of philosophy, politics and economics, think of schools, theatres, museums, art galleries, concert halls, libraries. Think above all of science, that wonderful achievement of the human intellect, which explores the structure and properties of the physical world, the minuscule strangeness of the quantum level, the immensities of space and time, and the in - tricacies of living organisms – and which then, through the application of this know - ledge via technology, enables us to fly through the air; communicate around the globe at the speed of light; cure diseases; transform the world around us so that we can live in all climes at all altitudes, even in space and under the sea.

The effect of culture in this sense is not always benign: we might think of damage to the environment and the existence of weapons of war. These, too, are the results of human ingenuity. But serious as they are, the many positive aspects of what humans make and do are a cause for celebration. It is only if we read and travel – the two best sources of the best kind of education – that we see the extent of this achievement.

One part of this achievement is the development of law. Only think: if there were no laws and no institutions that administer law, life would be very insecure. The strong would prey on the weak, might would be right, we would have to be on constant guard against the depredations of others. But civilisation flourishes where laws provide protection against the excesses of a situation where “everyone has to look out for himself”, for the existence of law presupposes forethought, discussion, negotiation, compromise, agreement, mutual responsibility and acceptance of the rights and interests of others. These things are the basis of community, and make it possible for most people to live together most of the time in harmony.

When we think of culture we naturally think of the arts and education along with science, and these are all the true marks of humanity at its best. Both science and the arts express the inventiveness of the human mind, but the arts capture its playfulness, too, and its desire to take the one great step that leads us even beyond knowledge: the step to understanding – understanding ourselves, our world, and our place in it.

This is the self-reflexiveness of the human mind, the ability to look at itself and to put itself into the context of everything it interacts with. Chimps and dolphins can recognise themselves in mirrors, and therefore have a degree of self-reflexive awareness – but it is hard to find anywhere else in nature the sheer scale and elaboration of the human mind’s response to things. The expression of that response is culture, and as the distinguishing mark of humanity, culture exemplifies what other animals lack – adaptiveness, progression, change and diversity in behaviour and activity.

I will admit that I have given an optimistic and upbeat account of human nature; cynics will wish me to remember how horrible we can be to each other, too, and alas history provides too much support for that fact. But it is not the violent, tribal, greedy side of humanity that is distinctive; animals are territorial and can be aggressive and violent in ways wholly untempered by the occasional pangs of conscience that human beings can muster.

I focus on the good side of culture because that is what differentiates us, and gives us our best reasons for being hopeful that we can master the destructive sides of our nature, and make life and the world something that is ever closer to utopia.

A C Grayling is Master of New College of the Humanities

http://www.newstatesman.com/lifestyle/society/2013/05/creeping-closer-utopia

What makes us human?

Introducing a new series on the most fundamental question of all, in partnership with BBC Radio 2’s Jeremy Vine show.

Phil Jones, 05/02/13

When I was 16 my comprehensive school went head-to-head in debate against the local public school. We relished the chance to do battle; it was our version of class war. I was chosen to oppose the motion “This house believes Man is no better than a dog”. My father was the wisest man I knew, so I asked him for guidance. He said that when you want to answer the big questions you should take a look at Shakespeare, in this case, Mark Antony’s homage to Brutus at the end of Julius Caesar: “His life was gentle, and the elements/ So mixed in him that Nature might stand up/And say to all the world, ‘This was a man!’” In other words, there is no finer accolade than to call someone human.

I remembered this recently when the New Statesman editor and I had lunch. We talked about offering our respective readers and listeners an insight into what I suspect is the most difficult question of all: “What makes us human?”

On the Jeremy Vine show, which I produce, we don’t do philosophy often. We spend our time making a lot of sound and fury around the subjects that irritate our fellow citizens as we struggle through the second decade of the 21st century. Bankers’ bonuses, welfare reform, whether or not you should jump into the sea to save your drowning dog. That sort of thing. Occasionally, though, we like to step back and ponder the deeper questions. Is there a God? Is our planet tumbling towards environmental catastrophe? And now the greatest question anyone can address: “What makes us human?”

There’s a simple beauty to the thought, but is there an answer to it? The idea is to ask some of our sharpest and most inquisitive minds to grapple with the question. We’ve got philosophers and religious leaders on board, and no doubt they wrestle with such thoughts week in and week out. But why not spread the net a little wider and challenge artists, pop stars, even footballers, to compose a short essay that attempts to find a meaning to our existence? From 29 April and continuing every week into the summer, Jonathan Sacks, Brian May, David Puttnam, Stephen Hawking, Mary Robinson, Susan Greenfield, Alain de Botton and others will contribute essays on the subject that will be read and discussed on the Jeremy Vine show and published in the New Statesman.

I hope that our readers and listeners might have a stab, too. I’ve made a modest attempt myself. The obvious place to begin is to compare us with other animals. There’s the statistic I never quite believe which claims that Homo sapiens has 99 per cent of the DNA of a chimp or 60 per cent of the DNA of a fruit fly. So it would seem that we barely differ from animals at all. But aren’t we unique in the animal kingdom in having imagination and consciousness? Apparently not. A group of leading neuroscientists has already declared that non-human animals, including mammals, birds and many other creatures, even octopuses, possess the capacity for consciousness. We can say with some confidence that dolphins, too, are conscious beings that perhaps even love, hope and dream.

Yet may be comparing us with animals takes us down a blind alley. I think what really makes us human is that we are cultural beings, capable of wondrous works. Isn’t it incredible that we’ve created things every bit as beautiful as those found in the natural world? Aren’t Van Gogh’s sunflowers as breathtaking as sunflowers swaying in a meadow? Can’t we marvel at our towering Gothic cathedrals just as we admire the great redwood forests? Who but a philistine would argue that a Cristiano Ronaldo free kick doesn’t compare with the flutter of a butterfly wing? But if humankind is capable of such creation and achievement, we are also responsible for great failings, and for evil almost beyond imagination. In The Tempest Prospero says of Caliban, “this thing of darkness I/Acknowledge mine”. The human race includes Jesus and Gandhi but must also own up to the Holocaust, gulags and the Rwandan genocide.

Looking back to that debate when I was 16, I can remember the pleasure I felt when we beat those public school boys. It was a small victory in the class war. But now I suspect that the winning wasn’t important: allowing your mind to explore such questions is reward enough. Perhaps our ability to do just that is exactly what makes us human.

http://www.newstatesman.com/culture/culture/2013/05/what-makes-us-human

In this week’s New Statesman: What make us human?

A new series exploring the most fundamental question of all.

Charlotte Simmonds, 04/26/13

Cover Story: What makes us human?

This week we kick off a series in collaboration with BBC Radio 2’s Jeremy Vine show. We aim to explore the pivotal question: “What makes us human?” Leading thinkers from a wide range of disciplines including Brian May, David Puttnam, Stephen Hawking, Mary Robinson, Susan Greenfield and Alain de Botton will contribute essays that will be read on the Jeremy Vine show and published in the New Statesman.

The Chief Rabbi, Jonathan Sacks, has contributed his answer – “The family is where we learn love” – to begin the series. He writes:

As an answer to the question what makes us human, even in the age of neuroscience, it’s hard to improve on the Bible’s answer . . . We are each, regardless of class, colour or culture, in the image and likeness of God . . . It is the source of the idea of human rights.

The Chief Rabbi then focuses on families. “The centrality of the family is what gave Jews their astonishing ability to survive tragedy and centuries of exile and dispersion.”

“When it works,” he continues, “the family is the matrix of our humanity . . . relationships are what make us human.”

Charlotte Simmonds is a writer and blogger living in London. She was formerly an editorial assistant at the New Statesman. You can follow her on Twitter @thesmallgalleon.

http://www.newstatesman.com/staggers/2013/04/week%E2%80%99s-new-statesman-what-make-us-human