This is part of a series of posts representing ideas from the book, Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn. I view the ideas explored in Ishmael to be so important to the world that it seems everyone should have a chance to be exposed. I hope this treatment inspires you to read the original.
Chapter SIX begins Alan’s quest to discover the Law of Life, during which Ishmael frequently employs analogies to more familiar laws of nature like gravity and aerodynamics to help Alan perceive the contours of the law. This chapter is presented in six numbered subsections, beginning on page 93 of the original printing and page 97 of the 25th anniversary printing. The sections below mirror this arrangement in the book. See the launch post for notes on conventions I have adopted for this series.
1. Laws by Observation
Ishmael announces to Alan that they will be climbing over the artificial wall erected by our culture in order to apprehend this “unobtainable” knowledge of how to live. In a statement that resonates deeply with me as a physicist, he says:
We don’t need prophets to tell us how to live; we can find out for ourselves by consulting what’s actually there.
[Likewise, we did not conjure electrons, photons, molecules, stars, planets, amoebas, newts, or humans: these exist without our brains telling them to.] Our culture, of course, allows and even encourages us to consult the external universe on essentially any matter except how humans ought to live—convinced that such knowledge cannot possibly be found.
A comparison is made to aeronautical pioneers. It was not certain that any knowledge existed that would enable humans to fly. Skeptics were not hard to find. Squabbles erupted over the proper approach (e.g., flapping wings vs. stationary ones). Lacking knowledge of the guiding laws meant only trial and error could resolve the matter [a form of consulting what’s actually there]. These pioneers not only lacked knowledge of the laws of aerodynamics (governing what happens to every airfoil in an air stream): they could not even be certain that there were any such laws.
We are in the same boat: unaware of laws that would govern how to live, and actually fairly certain that none exist. While Alan appreciates the difference between fabricated laws that can be changed with a vote and laws of nature that are non-negotiable, he still maintains that no such laws for how humans live can be found.
2. When Laws Apply
We learn about gravity by observing its influence on matter. We don’t study bee behavior to learn about gravity, just as we don’t study orbits to learn about bees. If we entertain the idea that we can discover the Law of Life, we are not likely to succeed by looking to the heavens, into the nucleus, or at the mechanics of materials. Where, then shall we look?
Alan suggests the field of anthropology. Ishmael makes the distinction that Newton did not look to physics (texts) for insights on gravity, but to the behavior of matter in the universe. That’s where the real story written: not in academic journals. So, where might the Law of Life be written?
Alan’s next guess is that the Law might be expressed in human behavior, earning a sarcastic rebuke that humans are not the only living being on the planet. Eventually, it is clear that any such law would be found written in the community of life: in ecology. This law is faithfully followed by amoebas, mosses, mushrooms, gnats, newts, turtles, chickadees, and lemurs.
If there were such a law, written in the community of life, Alan reflects, it would not apply to humans—on account of humans being vastly superior to the rest of the community.
Ah: that’s important, Ishmael notes. “Can you think of any other laws from which you are exempt because you’re humans?” Gravity, aerodynamics, genetics, thermodynamics, anything?
Well, no, Alan admits. Yet, he doesn’t see how a law binding the behavior of wasps and skunks should be relevant to us. Ishmael asks if the laws of aerodynamics were always relevant to us. Indeed, the governing laws only became relevant when we pursued flight. Then the smack:
And when you’re on the brink of extinction and want to live for a while longer, the laws governing life might conceivably become relevant.
3. The Elusive Law
Just as gravity keeps the Earth, solar system, and galaxy together/organized, so too does the Law of Life keep the community of life together.
Alan expresses surprise that biologists would not be all over this Law. Ishmael clarifies that they certainly know plenty about many relevant phenomena (i.e., behaviors, interactions, and relationships among species), and these phenomena are not particularly surprising to us as observant cohabitants of the planet. But culture prevents many of its members—scientists included—from seeing the connection into a universal law. The major barrier to such generalization is the conviction that any such law would not apply to humans, and therefore cannot be a law.
4. Human Exemption?
Is the law of gravity about flight? Well, it isn’t necessarily about flight, but it is certainly relevant. Gravity operates the same way on an airplane or a bird as on a rock. For that matter gravity isn’t picky about whether the object is airborne or firmly planted on the ground.
Similarly, the Law of Life isn’t about civilizations, but applies to them in the same way it does to a beehive. It applies to all life indiscriminately, which is the main reason Taker culture has failed to identify it.
The mythology of Takers has it that humans alone among millions of species are an “end product” of evolution. The world was made for no other species. The gulf of separation between humans and other species is uncrossable: humans are not even of the same realm; ontologically distinct; transcendent; of a different fundamental substance (soul); apart from nature.
5. Three Dirty Tricks
The gods have played three dirty tricks on the Takers that are tough pills to swallow.
First, the Copernican Revolution de-centered Earth as the focal-point of the cosmos almost 500 years ago. This was not gracefully or quickly accepted. By now, most of us have acceded to the fact that humans are not at center stage. Yet, that need not mean we’re not central to creation—just that the gods have a sense of humor about it.
Next, Darwinian evolution indicated that we emerged from the ignominious slime rather than being delivered by divine means. Tougher. It would be incorrect to claim that we’ve fully swallowed this pill yet, since a fair fraction of people in the world reject the idea. Note that the theory of evolution is still quite new in the world: occupying less than 2% of even Taker history—which itself is fleeting on human or evolutionary timescales.
The final trick—still unknown within Taker culture—is that humans are not exempt from the Law of Life any more than they are from the law of gravity. While it was possible for Takers to begrudgingly swallow the first two, this one is fundamentally incompatible with Taker culture, and thus cannot be accepted without marking the end of Taker culture.
Creatures living in compliance with the Law continue to exist, to the extent that external factors allow. This is good news for humans: live right by the Law and you may live on. The bad news is that failure to do so results in extinction.
Alan still struggles to see how any of this helps him in his quest to discover the Law of Life. Ishmael explains that analogies to more familiar laws—their effects; their universal application; where they are expressed and how they might be found—should help in this unexplored landscape.
6. The Taker Thunderbolt
Revisiting gravity and aerodynamics, Ishmael observes that sitting still does not turn off gravity, but results from our having the [electromagnetic] support of the ground preventing us from falling to the center of the Earth. Likewise, a person sitting on an airplane is still every bit as gripped by gravity as they would be on the ground [ignoring a tiny altitude effect]. The airplane has a freedom to fly—based on support from the air. By comparison, nothing fundamental precludes a civilization from “flying” (sustained existence) even though it is subject to the Law of Life the whole time.
Ishmael crafts a story about an early explorer of human flight, who has built a gangly machine with pedals and flapping wings. Launched off the cliff, the experience is exhilarating: our explorer is airborne! He is ignorant of even the existence of aerodynamic laws. But no matter what he thinks in his head about his airborne status: he isn’t flying.
The cliff is high, so the plummeting pioneer has plenty of time to congratulate himself and feel awesome: so far, so good! He begins to notice abandoned flying contraptions littering the ground far below, which—although puzzling to him—are of no immediate concern: they might not be airborne, but he is! What more proof could one possibly want? His flight has been a stunning success thus far, and he can see no reason [in his limited meat-brain] why that won’t continue to be the case. The observation that he is losing altitude merely requires more effort on the pedals, which are there for exactly this circumstance.
His rate of fall accelerates to alarming proportions, but his meat-brain reasoning is that the craft has carried him this far without a scratch, so that must be the indefinite way of things. Yet, no matter how hard he pedals—even with the strength of 1,000 men—it’s hopeless. The contraption was not built in accordance with the laws of sustainable aerodynamic flight, and therefore has no other possible fate than a crash.
The parallels are obvious. Ten-thousand years ago, the progenitors of Taker culture launched on an agricultural spree without any reference to or awareness of a Law of Life relevant to civilizational flight. They were not even curious or circumspect about it. Just launch and enjoy the new freedoms of the air! Ishmael calls their contraption the Taker Thunderbolt.
The experience of liberation from the laws that had bound all other life was a total rush. Free at last! Cities, mechanization, fossil fuels, space, and smart phones followed, continuing to thrill the passengers. Inundated by entertaining distractions, few recognized their rapid descent. In large part, this is because a single generation experiences only a small portion of the flight, so that every stage (in terms of speed; slowly increasing howl of air; decreasing distance to the ground) seems normal—or only slightly unsettling—in that snapshot. The sight of failed civilizations is curious, but chalked up to quirks and particulars that cannot possibly apply to our case: we’re flying, remember!
Yet, obviously if the Taker Thunderbolt is not predicated on principles of sustainability, then its fate is sealed. Ignorance does not shield the Takers one iota. Gravity does not seek mutual consent before exerting its pull. Wile E Coyote wouldn’t actually hang in mid-air until his brain acknowledges the lack of terrestrial support.
A few deeply unpopular observers (e.g., Malthus; Limits to Growth) notice the rapid descent and voice alarm (with timescale estimates) but are “laughed off stage” by the party in the sky. The logic goes little further than: so far, so good. Faith in technology is a universal, omnipotent salve, enabling the escapist fantasy that the flight will continue indefinitely. Meanwhile, resource depletion and extinctions pile up at an accelerating rate. [In the case of Malthus, an unforeseen and temporary updraft (fossil fuels) delayed the crash, but in so doing extended the flight over another, even taller cliff edge—serving to amplify the ultimate peril and destructive potential. Meanwhile, the crowd cheered at their “luck.”]
Those labeled as pessimists perform a simple projection and warn of the inevitable crash. Those labeled optimists extol the wonders of technology, and fabricate a flimsy imagination of pedaling hard, pulling out of the dive in the nick of time, and straight into space to fulfill our destiny as masters of the universe. [Which one seems juvenile?]
Yet, rather than the Taker Thunderbolt being the vehicle that carries us to the stars, it is the contraption committing us to a death spiral. No amount of frantic pedaling will alter the fact that it’s been a falling dud from the start (in ecological terms: the only terms that ultimately matter to a biological species).
Alan speculates that the tragedy is likely to repeat: any survivors will attempt Version 2.0 and make the same mistakes. [I’m not so sure: comprehensive exploitation of one-time resources—having grabbed all the low-hanging fruit—will make a cyclic repeat far less likely: new cliff edges are not perpetually available in the landscape.] Ishmael only observes that trial and error is a terribly destructive way to build a civilization. A successful attempt had best adhere to the Law of Life.
Next Time
In the next installment, covering Chapter 7, Alan continues to struggle in his attempt to deduce the Law of Life.
I thank Alex Leff for looking over a draft of this post and offering valuable comments and suggestions.
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I loved Chapter 6. I'm re-reading just now, when I get a child-free moment, and have managed to stay a few chapters ahead of your script. I think Chapter 6 could actually stand on its own (it shouldn't, but it could) as a succinct explanation of where we are. In the end (spoiler alert, sort of!), I think Alan gets the law a little too easily. It works, as a spoon-feed though, which is perfect for me!
I'm intrigued that you think there won't be an attempt at Version 2.0 though? Is that because you think that a lesson will have been learned, or will it just be a total resignation by the survivors? For me, the dream of v2.0, or getting back to where we were will still be foremost in people's aspirations, and I think societies for a long time will pursue the Taker story. I don't know how you go from Taker to Leaver, societally. We essentially live in a world where learning lessons is what we tell children to do. There are no collective (at the level of society, or civilisation) lessons learned, as far as I can see.
It's less matter of lessons or willpower than biophysical conditions. We can't wish surface ores to be restored, or fossil fuel deposits to be replenished, or any number of other biophysical harms (ecological collapse?). That's what I mean by no infinite set of cliffs to jump off: once in the basin, the landscape has changed and what was possible once no longer is. Geology/biology slowly lifted Earth to a high potential, but we've largely spent it now. What's left is too inaccessible to facilitate a restart from the ashes.
Many aspirations will die with today's individuals who won't be around in another 50 or 100 years. The new crop won't necessarily care to restore the lifestyles the olds keep yammering about—especially when it's biophysically prohibitive. The old novel Earth Abides offers a window into how the young generation can have essentially zero interest in reviving a bygone way of life—no matter the zeal of the elders.
I often think of Civilization v2.0 too. Setting aside that in my view there are civilizations (in plural), the idea of v2.0 is salient because the biomass it will inherit will be vastly less diverse. For that to recover might take hundreds of millions of years. By that time even the continents will be different and many mountains, mighty today, will be eroded to dust. Case in point is Ayers Rock (or more precisely Uluru) which was a massively mighty mountain and now just an impressively big rock in the middle of Down Under. Rivers, too, will change course or disappear altogether. Except for the stars, our current cultural markers will be unrecognizable even to an honest explorer intent on living by v1.0. However, with great tribulations come new opportunities. And THESE might happen much sooner. Consider just two scenarios and only very briefly within the confines of a comment: – The Arctic Ocean conceals a massive caldera. It has long dormant craters and so is the ridge between East and West Antarctica (over 130 of them! – mind you) currently under ice sheets. These latter has also have rather large active craters among them. And not all the ice has to melt for massive tectonic movements to come alive in the wake of isostatic rebounds, which happens when tectonic plates spring back up free of the orbital weight that dented and deformed them. Around these craters, the fissures go deep and wide and could easily belch massive new tellers and deposits of pretty much anything v1.0 needed in abundance with or without completely new earth formations around and over them: ores, rare earth and a lot of new oil, currently too deep to be feasible to even explore. So, if that would be the case, v2.0 could have all the requisites to end up where v1.0 is heading, but with one big difference. Those building it would likely lose the ability of making sense of our collected wisdom and would have a vastly impoverished community of life (in particular, those closest on the tree of life to our evolutionary branch) to anchor them to the Law of life, which needs diversity to remain complex, according to the Law of Complexity. And I can't quite see how this might be an advantage over v1.0.
Good points. I get hung up on timescales. The many millions of years it takes for geology and ecology to "reset" is far greater than our species' longevity (thus far), and long compared to most species' time on Earth. Thus, I think a Homo sapiens v2.0 of modernity is unlikely, and certainly not in a matter of several or even a hundred generations. In the very long term, it's anybody's guess what will happen (and all such guesses are likely to be pretty wrong).
Great insight, our timescales really are a blink compared to Earth's deep time. It's humbling to think about how small our window of influence might be.
Thanx for the shoutout, Tom. I concur. If speedy v2.0 does happen though (say, within a couple of thousand years) the biggest limitations I would see on it will be much impoverished complexity of life. As a student and scholar of complexity and complex systems, one of the hardest for me to digest is that the kind of diversity in the environment that sustains life can only ever be emergent. Meaning, the product of massive concurrences of coupled systems with inscrutable feedbacks and no definitive causation. Thus, intentional (engineered, designed, legislated, enforced, etc.) acts of controlling life's diversity may only result in reducing it in the long run.
Random but related. You might be interested in this recent study in case you havent seen it. https://www.pnas.org/doi/10.1073/pnas.2416221122
I read Ishmael a decade or more ago and, inspired by your embarking on this series, decided to read it again. I couldn't regulate myself to follow your post schedule, and so have now finished it. What a different experience it was! While I understood it to be a philosophical treatment of our human place in the world, having become a student of your blog, and "doing the math", the book now held a much stronger message; a tighter correlation with our planetary limits and our denial of being subject to them.
And this chapter is a really good presentation that humans are just another species in the mix. I particularly liked the three deceptions: heliocentric, evolution, and (what do we call this last one?) human non-exceptionalism.
Thanks for your continued work on this. I will continue to follow your posts as I gradually accept what is coming. It is a shame to lose so much cool hard-won knowledge, but we just aren't (collectively) smart enough to keep it.
Oh, and I agree with your opinion that we won't be able to rise to this level again… at least not until the planet has had a makeover and new reserves of minerals and fossil fuels are again easily available. That suggests that the time frame required is at least as long as it takes to make such fossils.
Excellent! I'm glad you were inspired to read it again. I suspect many who have read the book found it *interesting* but not deeply insightful. I had worked my way into a particularly receptive state, so was instantly impressed. But I suspect that if I had read it ten, five, or even two years earlier than I did, I would not have had the same reaction. Would I have rejected it, even? Possibly, on what I now would call superficial grounds.
Your comment about the shame of losing knowledge nicely captures where I have ended up. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm now ready to accept our limitations and demote scientific knowledge as NOT being the most valuable possible human achievement. It's just not working out so well, is it?
Beautifully said. Our relationship with knowledge evolves, and sometimes it takes the right moment in life to fully grasp a deeper meaning. Your reflection is both honest and thought-provoking.
Im sure we can argue that the decline has begun. But how fast? When does NY times have headlines about empty stores and starvation in the US?
Though being a "person of faith", believing in souls, an afterlife, etc. is often framed as a positive, especially by doing those doing the blind believing, I think this chapter demonstrates one of the many potential dark sides of subscribing to notions of human transcendance and, ultimately, supremacy. What's a death of a million other species compared to your eternal life in the fluffy clouds? It's just part of this yucky material world that you're going to evolve beyond anyways – IF you pedal hard enough on your spiritual craft, but dang, you fell short again so here you are back on this miserable earth to suffer for another lifetime. So that's one view I've sniffed out beneath the surface, that when it comes down to it, because of this belief in invisible special souls they will prioritize their individual salvation over the future survival of any species (including humans). As I'm writing this, I'm pretty sure Quinn discusses this in Story of B so maybe I didn't actually sniff it out on my own! The other, more overt stance I keep coming across is those who seem to want humans to go extinct, crave the punishment of coming end times, and believe that everyone deserves the same fate because they confuse modernity with all humanity and it's just too hopeless. Again, though, behind it I sense this attitude of, "I got mine, or will get it in the afterlife, so who cares?". This is why I fear that the predictions of extinction of humankind may not pack the punch those who DO care about the actual material earth and nonhuman life, like Quinn, would expect. But, perhaps learning the story behind our one delusional culture will change some of those minds. Thanks again for these great summaries.
Also, expanding a bit on 6.6: I do think it's worth pointing out that those extolling the virtues of the Taker Thunderbolt are typically the ones piloting it or snug inside the cabin, or maybe sellers of poorly designed flying contraptions? and that over the past 10,000 years, those huffing and puffing on the pedals, or dragging the stones up the pyramid (to borrow another Quinn analogy) would beg to differ about how much of a party it actually is!
I wholeheartedly agree that belief in eternal soul and glorious afterlife may be the most destructive attitude one can possess. I might even call it evil.
Thank you, Tom, for this series. I agree that belief in an afterlife and that one somehow deserves it is evil. I also believe that humans who think that they are god's chosen people are evil.
They are the definition of takers at all costs – human, animal, nature, plant, ecological. Nothing and no one is as important as they are. They sicken me.
I can resonate with that but I must admit that the realisation of us not having free will is difficult to deal with. Without free will there really is no such thing as evil and an attitude isn't "possessed" by anyone, at least in so far as they can choose to possess it or not.
The lack of free will is probably the hardest scientific probability for me to accept. The implications are so profound and non-intuitive that I struggle with it every day. And it makes me question a lot of my own feelings on many matters.
Independent of origins, we can say that some cultural attitudes are "better" than others once adopting certain values. Without any values, total nuclear annihilation is no better or worse than prospering biodiversity. We can call nuclear war—and those who might be proponents—evil. No matter the path and influences that shaped them into that person. By naming it evil, another cultural influence gnaws at their brain, which might influence change. Besides just being a bit grumpy when I wrote that belief in eternal soul/afterlife is evil, I was issuing a jarring statement that might catch some off guard and at least question what culture has told them is marvelous. It's counter-culture. It's tiny mosquito-whine of influence in the raging torrent that will have no great influence, but perhaps a few individuals will take stock. Free will need not be part of that story.
Whilst I'd agree with all of that (apart from free will not being part of the story – the lack of it is part of every story), I can't help thinking that some people will find what most consider evil to be perfectly reasonable. Morality is highly subjective, even if there seems to be a large overlap of moral space.