A Brief History of Questions

https://unsplash.com/photos/eodA_8CTOFo

→Introduction

Mr. Hawking comes oh so close to connecting the dots in his book A Brief History of Time, but seems to narrowly miss in the end. To many readers I have just uttered blasphemy and overstepped my bounds, but allow me to explain myself. I don't claim to understand the science he puts forth. What may separate us commoners, though, is our willingness to admit when we simply don't understand something, which Hawking seems unable to do. He at least asks the right question, which is more than can be said for most who attempt to voyage through this particular rabbit hole. And what is that rabbit hole, you might well ask? It is the all-consuming question of “Why?” If we are honest with ourselves, we find that this is in fact the only question really worth asking, and perhaps the only question that doesn’t have a tidy answer.

Perhaps you’re still in the dark; let me explain. “Why?” questions the meaning and purpose of our very existence. By this point in history, ample scientific theory explains how we came to be, providing a quite convincing timeline to answer that question.

 

It is widely understood that carbon is the basic building block of life. Humans have a not insignificant carbon content, though it may be disguised via various molecular connections with other elements forming compounds in our chemical makeup. Every living thing has some level of carbon content. You’ve likely heard that the carbon that allows for our existence came from the stars, ergo, we really are composed of star dust. This is perhaps not entirely accurate, though not necessarily inaccurate, either. Sort of imbues our existence with a special significance off the bat, no? These stars, in turn, received their makeup from the material generated at the purported beginning of the Universe, the Big Bang. It is ironic, then, that a carbon compound, carbon dioxide, is proving to be a thorny issue for the planet, but that’s a discussion for another time.

It is widely accepted that life has grown increasingly complex and sophisticated over billions of years through the process of evolution. We could dive into Darwin’s theory of natural selection, the idea of random mutations, and so forth, but I think you get the idea. These theories all explain the question of how we came to exist. Yet none of them even touch the surface of why we exist. That’s what I want to tackle in this brief article using Hawking's timeless book as our guide.

→The Thorny Notion of Providence

I will now proceed to the question of God – as I inevitably must – and seeing as it comes up so much throughout Hawking's own work and must therefore have a prominent role in this analysis. Those of us who are of a spiritual nature – which is to say, all of us, in some form or another – generally believe that our purpose is derived from God (whatever divinity, higher power, being, or mystery you may believe in), and that God imbued meaning in all of Creation. In so believing, we don’t have to look far to find meaning in the world around us. While I don’t expect that a mere article will convince you of this if you don’t already believe it to be true, I do want to examine the false dichotomy in which science and spirituality are always placed when examining this question. I believe the two fit quite well together, and are not diametrically opposed as they are often made out to be.

For instance, I see no incongruity between the scientific description of the origin of the Universe and the Creation story presented in the Bible, so long as that story is rightly understood to be an allegory or metaphor. It seems perfectly logical that God (or, again, some higher power or being) set in motion the Universe that we see today by making use of the mechanisms that we are only now coming to describe with physics. It also seems odd to me that scientists look at proofs of evolution, and conclude that that must necessarily mean that there is no God. It seems only natural that evolution is yet another mechanism which God used to achieve Creation.

Hawking unfortunately borders on such egotistical boundaries as thinking that increasingly accurate scientific theories somehow preclude the existence of God. And he isn’t alone in this line of thinking, as Carl Sagan says as much in his introduction for the book. I have a great deal of respect for both Mr. Hawking and Mr. Sagan and their innumerable contributions to science. Unfortunately, I think they lack a similar respect for the ideas of a person of faith. Or perhaps they don’t understand that which they claim to be false, as each tries to put God (and even transcendentalism – that is, seeing divinity in everything) in a box, as though the divine were finite and subject to the same physical laws that limit humanity. 

Following is Sagan’s closing line of the introduction: “And this makes all the more unexpected the conclusion of the effort, at least so far: a universe with no edge in space, no beginning or end in time, and nothing for a Creator to do.” Such hubris! Considering a notion of divinity that is limitless, without beginning or end itself, I don’t know how Mr. Sagan can conclude that the Universe must be independent of any greater force simply because it appears to have no definite beginning.

→A Description of the Universe

Following the introduction, Hawking provides a fairly dense description of the Universe as we currently understand it to function. He describes the contributions of various scientists and mathematicians through the ages and the various theories they developed which advanced the state of the science. We are treated to a discussion of the theory of relativity, the relationship between space and time, and an introduction to elementary particles. Hawking even at one point describes such things as virtual particles.¹ As an aside, while I am perfectly willing to accept the existence of such particles, it is ironic that Hawking is so willing to accept a particle which cannot be detected, yet is at best ambivalent, at worst dismissive, of the notion of God.

After introducing us to the general workings of the Universe, Hawking then leads a discussion on black holes. It is a fascinating discussion, though most of what is “known” is theoretical, and to some degree speculative. Owing to the infinite gravity found within black holes, it would be nigh impossible to directly record data at or within the event horizon, let alone to transmit this data back into space. As Hawking puts it, “One could well say of the event horizon what the poet Dante said of the entrance to Hell: ‘All hope abandon, ye who enter here.’”²

Having thoroughly described the inner workings of black holes, Hawking proceeds to the most important section of the book, as he writes at length on “The Origin and Fate of the Universe.” Hawking proceeds with a questioning of why we should be able to understand the Universe as it is now, but not necessarily be able to apprehend its initial state or "boundary conditions" or the reason that it was so. Lacking a satisfactory answer, he concludes that, due to the anthropic principle, "We see the universe the way it is because we exist."³ 

Throughout the discussion of the origin of the Universe, Hawking makes allowances for the existence of an omnipotent being only when all other avenues have been exhausted, and seems to confuse the notion of improbability with impossibility. For instance, given that we don't know the boundary conditions at the start point of the Universe, it makes sense to ask whether the Universe even had a beginning. If it has no beginning, perhaps it also has no end. In the words of Hawking, "...it would simply be. What place, then, for a creator?" And my question to Mr. Hawking is this: Is this not a description of the divine itself?

→Time Itself

Following this, Hawking proceeds with a fascinating discussion of "The Arrow of Time." For instance, the no boundary (or, at least, unknown boundary) conditions described above imply that the Universe might very well be in continual cycles of expansion and contraction. It stands to wonder why humanity should appear in the expansion phase rather than the contraction phase.⁴ 

Hawking demonstrates that intelligent life can only occur during the expanding phase of the Universe because of the strength of the arrow of thermodynamic time. Intelligent life relies on principles of order and disorder, for instance, in how humans consume food and convert it to energy. This is an example of using energy to create order from chaos. We thus could not exist in a contracting state in which the thermodynamic arrow is either in reverse or when the Universe is already in a state of complete disorder.

A state of complete disorder roughly approximates where we end our quest for the answer to the question "Why?" if we do not allow for the existence of something greater than ourselves. It seems that Hawking knows this to be true, but can't quite allow himself to state it plainly. Hawking allows that many things are uncertain, as described by the Uncertainty Principle in quantum mechanics, which states that we can only observe either the position or direction of an elementary particle, and that the very act of observation will change the result. 

Perhaps uncertainty is God in Hawking's reckoning. Hawking best sums it up when he writes, "The usual approach of science of constructing a mathematical model cannot answer the questions of why there should be a universe for the model to describe."⁵ Indeed, a model cannot describe why the thing which it attempts to describe should exist at all. We must allow for a little mystery. We must allow that we simply do not know.

Footnotes

¹ Chapter 5 of A Brief History of Time

² Chapter 6 of A Brief History of Time

³ Chapter 8 of A Brief History of Time

⁴ Chapter 9 of A Brief History of Time

⁵ Conclusion of A Brief History of Time

The Elusiveness of Bliss

https://unsplash.com/photos/-N0YnyNweJQ

I recently re-read a fabulous book by Eric Weiner titled The Geography of Bliss. The first time I read it was in preparation for a summer program at Cambridge in 2012, and I felt that it was worth revisiting, particularly in our troubled cultural moment, when bliss seems so difficult to come by. 

Weiner takes us on a journey both within and without to examine various cultures and what it is that makes them happy. Or, barring happiness, what it is that makes them miserable. Told with remarkable wit, it is an honest foray into the often fruitless search for happiness. As is by now well known, simply wondering whether we are happy can make us unhappy. Anything that takes us out of the moment can lead to unhappiness. It is for this reason, I surmise, that Weiner chose the word bliss rather than happiness in his title. 

In my estimation, bliss exists somewhere between happiness and joy. It is not as fragile or fleeting as happiness, but neither does it require quite the same sense of quiet contentment that we often associate with joy. I would liken bliss to a state of flow (that wonderful concept explored by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi): that blissful unawareness that is achieved by being aware of and immersed in where you are and what you are doing – let's call it a sort of mindful happiness. 

With this definition in mind, let's take a brief look at the places that Weiner visits in his book and my interpretations of his main conclusions from each.

1. The Netherlands
   
   In the Netherlands, Weiner tells us – after smoking some hash for "research purposes" – it is a combination of freedom and permissibility that contributes to the nation's relatively high levels of happiness: the Netherlands checks in at number five globally on the 2019 list of the world's happiest nations. But it is not mere permissibility that leads to happiness. It is a sort of structured permissibility without judgment. Even in the Netherlands, too much of a good thing is still too much.
   
   
2. Switzerland
   
   Switzerland checks in at number six on the 2019 global happiness list, just behind the Netherlands. It is also the second stop for Weiner on his grand tour. He is quick to note that the perception of Switzerland as a clean and well-functioning nation is spot on. Switzerland is also a little boring, but perhaps that's why it lends itself to being a happy place. For the Swiss, Weiner notes, it is a combination of structure, rules, and trust that produce a happy society. Everyone knows how to behave, neighbors know what to expect from neighbors, and one does not seek to inspire envy in others. Everything has its place, including indulgence in a little chocolate now and again.
   
   
3. Bhutan
   
   Bhutan is the first of Weiner's stops that misses out on the top ten of the 2019 global happiness index. It is also, perhaps, the place that inspires one the most of all the places to which he travels. For the Bhutanese, attentiveness, deliberateness, and, once again, trust, contribute to a happy society. Things move slower in Bhutan. Weiner notes the lack of infrastructure we are accustomed to in the West. But in Bhutan, this is not a lack, it is a freedom. A freedom to slow down and actually practice deliberateness, not just espouse its positives as we Americans so often do without ever testing it out. Perhaps trust comes easier in a smaller nation, but its recurrence as a cornerstone of happiness seems to be an indication of something worthwhile. 
   
   
4. Qatar
   
   The nation of Qatar is an outlier. It is a nouveau riche nation doing its utmost to purchase a culture. "We are revising ourselves through our...cultural development," said Qatar's chief art buyer. Call it revision or creation, Weiner does not seem impressed with the effect. In his estimation, money buys leisure, but not necessarily bliss. As has been noted by so many researchers, money on its own does not lead to happiness. In fact, tying self-worth to money even hampers happiness.
   
   
5. Iceland
   
   Iceland checks in at number four on the 2019 global happiness index, the highest of the nations that Weiner visited. In Iceland, Weiner jokes, the people are drinkers, but happy drinkers. But Icelandic happiness goes beyond enjoying a good drink. Weiner informs us that it is a combination of imagination and cultural inventiveness, with ample room to fail and try again, that contributes in large part to the bliss of the nation. It is this inventiveness that also leads to valuing generalization over specialization, a rarer thing in the modern world, but that seems to point to a more well-rounded society. In Iceland, the focus is on learning more about more, not excessively more about less and less. It is a sort of moderation through unbounded exploration that we could all learn from.
   
   
6. Moldova
   
   Weiner's brief visit to the country of Moldova, which consistently ranks near the bottom of world happiness indices, reveals what happiness is not. In Moldova, we learn that happiness is elsewhere. It's a sort of grass is greener approach, but in this case, the grass really does seem to be greener in any direction outside of Moldova. We are introduced to lovely people there, though, who teach us that we are hardwired for altruism, even, and perhaps especially, in difficult or less than ideal circumstances. To take this idea further, we should avoid envy resolutely, as envy of our neighbors makes us less likely to want to help them. This seems to be a symptom that we are seeing play out in current US politics.
   
   
7. Thailand
   
   In Thailand, we basically find the antithesis of the prevailing mindset that drives America. Weiner writes that Thailand taught him to make things fun and to take the long view, especially in light of the belief in re-incarnation. Do not take yourself too seriously, for if it is not fun, at least on some level, then what is the point?
   
   
8. Great Britain
   
   Great Britain is another of those places that Weiner does not find to be particularly happy at face value. With that in mind, he advises us that happiness is a matter of how you choose to see things. Re-framing is important in most aspects of life, especially regarding work and career, but Great Britain teaches us that it can also be important in how we view ourselves and where we came from.
   
   
9. India
   
   In India, where Weiner served as a foreign correspondent for NPR for a time, he instructs us to allow and embrace contradictions, embrace uncertainty and imperfections, and allow for an ad hoc experience of life. Again, all things that we in America find difficult to do. As Weiner notes in his book, the contradictions of India may be best summed up by a Mark Twain quote in which he wrote, "Every life [in India] is sacred, except human life." Perhaps this stems from a wide belief, like Thailand, in re-incarnation. Perhaps, though, it's just a further invitation to accept the contradictions and absurdities that are inevitably encountered in life.
   
   
10.  America
    
    Weiner ends his journey with a review of America and what makes its citizens tick. According to Weiner, it is willpower, gumption, and prosperity that underlies the American drive for happiness. Much of this is ultimately empty, though. How much prosperity is enough? More. We are a  society hell-bent on seeking money, when what would really make us happy – and the research bears this out – is seeking time and connection with others.

No single place has the perfect formula for happiness. Happiness is, after all, fleeting. Again, perhaps this is why Weiner chose to use the word bliss in his title. There are lessons worth taking from each of the nations that Weiner visited. The ones that seem to recur, though, are an emphasis on connection, trust, and time – all of which require a certain deliberateness on our part. Deliberateness is certainly a concept we can get behind here at Deliberately Aimless.