Category Archives: Discussion and Philosophy

Here is where I can rant about issues, or just calmly discuss them.

On the F-word

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Perhaps more than anything else, the way we react to language says something about what generation we belong to. I belong to the generation that didn’t grow up using “like” in every other sentence, but rapidly picked up the habit as young adults. A generation that didn’t up-talk, though I find myself doing that more often than I’d like now. A generation in which the f-word was still a serious curse word. Or as Ralphie says in A Christmas Story, “the queen-mother of dirty words”–though Ralphie was an earlier generation.

My parents made some effort not to curse too freely in front of us kids, but they certainly exclaimed “D—!”, “H—!”, or “S—!” when feeling seriously provoked (Oddly enough, my mom sometimes says “Pardon my French” when she’s just sworn in English, and “Pardon my English” when she’s just said, “M—-!”) But “Fudge!” is as close as they generally got to the f-word.

I realize that things have changed. I have a daughter. I read YA. But I can’t get used to the f-word as an all-purpose filler. How did this even happen? Of all words to popularize, why the swear word that combines sex and (threat of) violence? Weren’t we supposed to be fighting that combination?

My daughter tells me the f-word doesn’t carry that same sense of threat now, though I’m pretty sure people still say “F— you!” and tell others to “F— off!” And I suppose there are other words that also combined sex and threat that don’t strike me as forcefully, perhaps because they exist in other, innocent contexts as well. The word “screw” has a legitimate place in construction and engineering.

Language does change, whether we like it or not, and exposure has its effects. The f-word does pop into my mind when everything goes to hell in a handbasket*, though I prefer not to actually say it. I may say, like, a lot of other words that irritate me? And, like, find myself up-talking when I don’t mean to? But maybe I can stand firm on this one.

Though the euphemistic “fudge” has given way to “freak” and “frick”, so who knows?

Till next post.

*Why a handbasket? Just because it’s alliterative??

“This Music Is a Bit Repetitive”–that’s why I like it

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Hadestown, George Thorogood, Linda Book, John Denver, Styx, The Saw Doctors, The Blues Brothers, Juan Luis Guerra, The Persuasions, The Little Mermaid, Odetta, Mumbo Gumbo, Pan Jive Steel Band, Abba, Kudana, Tom Waits, Doc Watson, Billy Joel, Five O'Clock Shadow
A small selection of music I like

The other day I was driving somewhere with my mom and I had some music playing. It was Taylor Swift, as it happens–I know only a few of her songs and wanted to hear some more of them. When we arrived at our destination and I turned it off, my mother said thoughtfully, “It’s a bit repetitive.”

It isn’t the first time she’s said that about music I was listening to, and I tend to react as though she’s criticizing my music–after all, doesn’t “repetitive” imply “boring” and maybe even “unoriginal?” This time I tried to take the comment at face value, and observed that yes, this kind of music has verses and choruses and generally repeats the chorus multiple times at the end, with more or less variation, before closing.

My mother and I have different tastes in music. She loves classical, and I grew up complaining that her music was “boring”. (Yes, that was bratty of me. I didn’t fully realize that till I had a kid of my own.) I like–well, I like music with words, as well as music that is danceable. We overlap a bit on traditional folk music. (Which does have repetition in the form of choruses, but doesn’t repeat them multiple times at the end, unless the musician playing chooses to do so.)

The more I thought about her comment, though, the more I realized that repetition in this kind of music is a feature, not a bug. If the chorus is catchy or somehow pleasing, hearing it again and again is a pleasure. It’s something I can sing along to, even if I haven’t learned all the verses to the song. It’s like listening to the song over and over–it’s repetition, sure, but it’s fun.

Thinking about this led me to think some more about my aforementioned reaction to classical music. While I can pick out some repeated bits, for the most part I can’t follow the structure of the pieces. I’m sure it exists, but I don’t hear it. So for me, listening to classical is a bit like listening to a lecture on economics or accounting–first I’m lost, then I’m bored, and finally my mind drifts off to something else.

It’s possible that had I taken piano as a kid, I might have learned to appreciate classical music. But I don’t regret the time I spent instead drawing, writing, and messing around with plants. And there is plenty of music out there with wonderful lyrics and/or a danceable rhythm. I’m not going to run out of things to listen to.

And I’m not going to deny that some of the music I listen to is “repetitive.” It is–and that’s part of why I like it.

The World Would NOT Be Better Without Us

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Every so often someone–sometimes someone I know–tosses out a line that boils down to something like, “Well, the world would be better off without us.”

I understand that we humans have had an outsized effect on our environment and that this has been hard on many other species (and the end of some), but really? Let’s discuss this.

First, what do people mean when they say, “The world would be better off without us?” The world is not a being. In what sense could the world itself be better or worse off? What are the standards of welfare for a planet?

I think by “the world” people must mean “the animals of the world” or perhaps even “the living beings of the world.” I did once read an article where the author spoke anthropomorphically about glaciers, saying something like, “Is X a problem? Just ask the glaciers,” as though they had an opinion, but I can’t see how one would evaluate the welfare of geological formations, or why.

So let’s assume that in this context, people are thinking about the living organisms in the world rather than the world itself. In that case, how can we interpret “The world would be better off without us?”

Some people probably mean that there would be a greater number of different species in the world if we weren’t around to destroy habitats and drive some species to extinction. In this case, “better off” means “more varied” or “more diverse.” Other people probably mean that without us, there would be more tigers and polar bears, for instance. Many species would be more populous without us around, so those species would be “better off.”

Let’s consider the first interpretation. Without humans, there probably would be a greater number of species in the world. After all, we (as a species) take up an enormous amount of space and resources. We build cities, devote large tracts of land to single species crops, and we have hunted some animals to extinction.

Furthermore, ecosystems do need a great variety of species. There are so many niches to be filled: predators, prey, photosynthesizers, decomposers, and many versions of each of these to suit all the varied environments that exist. But why suppose the world would be better if it had the greatest possible number of species in it? Doesn’t it just need enough?

Moving to the second interpretation, yes, there would likely be more tigers and polar bears (and orangutans and so on) if humans weren’t around. (Of course, there would probably be fewer rats and cockroaches.) But “better for tigers” is not the same as “better for the world.” Just ask the deer and wild pigs in their habitats. And “Tigers would be better off without us” doesn’t have the same ring as “The world would be better off without us.”

To be clear, I do care what happens to other species. One really special feature of humans is our ability to care about members of species not our own–and not just as a means to our own survival. We genuinely value polar bears and tigers, as well as many smaller, less visually impressive species. We do think the world is a better place when it includes such species (as long as they aren’t eating us or giving us zoonotic diseases.)

We value a lot of other things as well, though. Songs, sunsets, and Marvel Avengers movies. Chocolate cake, cool outfits, and the Taj Mahal. Intricate clockwork devices, roller coasters, and glaciers. Of these, only the sunsets and glaciers would exist without us.

From whose perspective would the world be better without us? We are the only species whose members care whether other species flourish. Hawks care about mice only insofar as they need to eat them, but have no interest in the welfare of koalas. Koalas have no interest in mice, and neither of them care about polar bears.

In any case, I am human and my evaluations are inevitably from a human perspective. I value human beings, their capacity to care, and their capacity to create. I cannot agree that the world would be better without us. I can agree that the world would be better if we did not mess up the existing natural balance–and not just because it is going to come back to hurt us. The way nature is organized is a beautifully intricate web that took several billion years to develop, and it is fascinating in its own right, as well as essential to our survival.

So why do people–people who presumably value other humans-sometimes say the world would be better off without us? I have even heard people suggest that if we drive ourselves into extinction, we will have deserved it, as though humans as a species were morally evil. What’s that about?

I think the answer is misplaced guilt. If tigers are worse off because of us, if passenger pigeons are extinct because of us, then, the reasoning apparently goes, we must have done wrong. And if we as a species have done wrong to so many other species, surely we deserve some sort of punishment. Perhaps we deserve to go extinct ourselves?

No! Absolutely not. I’m not saying we haven’t done any wrong to specific individual animals, or that we don’t owe animals any consideration. But in the main, all we’ve done is consume and multiply, just like every other species in existence. That we have been so wildly, incredibly successful at this is what creates our current problems. But it doesn’t make us an evil species.

All species consume and multiply, up to and often beyond their available resources. If they outstrip their resources, the result is famine, often disease, and ultimately a population crash. Thus nature reduces their numbers to something more sustainable. We humans have been very inventive in finding ways to extend our available resources and find new resources to exploit, but we can only carry this so far. Unlike other species, we can foresee the eventual consequences, and we have the ability to change our behavior in response.

Hopefully we actually will change our behavior. Nature doesn’t care whether seven billion humans gets reduced to six billion, or five billion, or even one billion. Nature doesn’t care whether there are any humans at all. But we care. We care a lot.

The world wouldn’t be better off without us. So let’s keep that from happening.

Till next post.