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

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

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.

Games as practice for life–losing

Two games we have been playing recently, and a tray for rolling dice.

These past few weeks, we’ve been playing a new game, Fantastic Factories, as well as the old favorite, Ark Nova.* I always find learning new rules difficult at first, and maybe that’s why my mind went back to games as practice for life. In this case, as practice for losing (though I’ve been doing pretty well with Fantastic Factories so far.)

Let’s face it–losing is disappointing. It’s more fun to win. And yet, unless you are playing a cooperative game, someone is bound to lose and it may be you. So you have to be able to lose well. You need to be able to lose without either acting out (like a petulant child) or giving up on the game altogether.

Acting out is particularly bad. No one likes a sore loser. This is one of the more obvious lessons kids learn from playing games, along with taking turns, following rules, and being a gracious winner. If you are known for upsetting the board when things don’t go your way, other kids won’t want to play with you. (Talking to you, Ali B.!) This is clearly true in life as well. (And now I’m looking at some politicians…)

Only a bit less obviously, you need to be able to lose and not give up on the game. If every loss is so upsetting that you refuse to play again, you miss out on the fun you can have in playing. You also miss out on the opportunity to get better at playing and so start winning some games.

Similarly, in life every skill you learn starts off with you doing very poorly. For example, if you’re trying to get published, well… how many agent-rejections am I up to now? Sixty? Eighty? More than one hundred? (It’s still early days.)

So what helps a person lose well? Here I’m going to digress a bit. In games where you are focused on building things or completing projects, and where winning is mostly about being more successful in your projects than your opponent, it is perhaps easier to deal with losing because you can still feel you were very successful. It’s just that the other guy was even more successful. In games where the competition is more direct–you can’t both take the same trick in a card game, for instance–your current status if you are losing feels more sharply obvious.

One thing that helps is perspective. It’s just a game. There will be other games.Obviously this is not true of life, but in life, particular episodes of loss are just that–episodes. There is more to your life than this one loss.

Hope also matters. It’s hard to have fun when things are clearly going badly for you, when all your plans and stratagems are being frustrated. So long as you feel, “But I can still win!”, you have hope. At some point, depending on the game, it may become obvious that you are going to lose. But if you can reasonably think, “Well, next time I will do this differently…” then you still have hope, even if it is no longer focused on the game at hand.

So losing in games is practice for losing in life. I’m not suggesting that this is why people should play games. That would be like suggesting people should eat broccoli because it is nutritious, instead of because it is (when properly prepared) delicious. No, you should play games because they are fun. And like anything else in life, some games will appeal to you more than others. So my point, I suppose, is that you should seek out games that appeal to you and those you play with, and play them.

And practice losing well.

Till next post.

*Because sometimes you don’t have time for a three hour game.