Quince Bloom

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Gyrating Vultures

While wandering through the woods recently my attention was drawn to five turkey vultures lazily circling. It was like a slow, graceful aerial dance; almost mesmerizing in their elegant undulations. The turkey vulture is a large, unsightly bird, over two feet (65 cm) long, with a wingspan of over five feet (1.7 m). This bird provides a valuable service to the environment by consuming carrion... a major benefit to the world. Without vultures, dead critters would lay around putrefying and spreading disease.

The five birds I saw gracefully circled one another—forming a spiral of wings that slowly revolved. The birds' relative positions were maintained, which caused a sensation for me of seeing their formation as if it was a fixed entity, rather than five individual beings. Yet one bird—near the top of the group—drew my attention, as it moved more independently. It seemed as if it was like a musical conductor of a small, silent vulture orchestra. It was a beautiful sight.

In a few moments I noticed that the vertical axis of the rotating vulture helix was very leisurely drifting westward—reminiscent of a tornado or a water spout, in extreme slow motion. Then I noticed that, for the time that I was watching the show, I had seen no wing flaps. For a couple of minutes or more these birds were soaring—tipping a bit from side to side as vultures do, but with their wings frozen in position, outstretched and in a slight upward angle.

The vultures were being buoyed up by rising warm air at the end of the day, as heat waves from the warm ground rose into the cool evening air. These rising thermals are advantageously used by large birds such as vultures, eagles, and hawks, to soar with minimal energy expenditure. It takes a large effort for these birds to lift themselves from the ground, so they use thermals, much like humans do with hot-air balloons. My vultures were free-riding on a small thermal, that was not strongly rising, so they stayed at about the same 30 foot (10 m) elevation—floating and circling unhurriedly westward.

When people see vultures circling, they expect that the birds are searching for carrion. These birds will float in lazy circles, their exquisite sense of smell (for a bird) seeking those rising odors of decaying flesh. Were these vultures looking for dinner? Was it a family out for an evening flight? Were they simply enjoying themselves, as they received a free ride on the evening warm air? If I could lose my fear of heights and have my arms transform into giant wings—sort of like a hang glider—I'd have wanted to join the vulture ballet that evening. But I was content to remain a grounded human, as I soared with the birds in my imagination.

Privileged Presumption—Part 2

What began this blog posting on privileged presumption was an occasion in which I recently caught myself exhibiting a dose of hubris, when I caught myself looking upon the ancient Greeks a bit disdainfully. I have recently taken a couple of online courses on ancient Greece and am currently reading a book on ancient Greek philosophy. I often find it a struggle to grasp the dense thinking and teachings of Greek philosophers from 2500 years ago, such as Socrates, Aristotle, Plato, and others. Their era was very different, in so many ways. It is a big challenge for scholars to translate early Greek prose into an understandable style of English that faithfully captures the intentions of those ancient philosophers. In addition, I sometimes struggle comprehending the mores and beliefs of those ancient societies.

Many of the Greeks whose writings we have from that period were well-to-do and lived a life of leisure, which gave them lots of time to sit around and ponder the mysteries of the human mind, as well as the nature of the universe. It was a time when the first Greek (and thus western) scientists appeared, although they didn't call themselves that, since the word “science” didn't really come into use until the 17^th century. If anything, they called themselves natural philosophers, because they were seeking a better understanding of the natural world, and scientific experimentation was virtually unknown, so they philosophized. Their crucial offering to human knowledge was to usher in an era which replaced the antics of the gods in people's minds with the actions of Mother Nature.

That initiation of scientific thought was a foundational development in the progress of Homo sapiens. Prior to the time of these first natural philosophers coming onto the scene, the accepted explanation for many events that occurred was that the gods did it. An earthquake or flood or tornado? It must be that the gods are pissed off at people and were punishing them. Have a good food crop or experience victory in battle? It must be that the gods liked us and graced us with favor. The Jewish Bible (Old Testament) is full of these kind of happenings which are attributed to God. Similarly, all sorts of personal tragedy or good fortune—disease, death, good health, wealth—were attributed to the gods. The deities either were upset with me and punished me, or thought I deserved a favor and rewarded me.

Then came those first Greek scientists: Thales, Anaximander, Anaximenes, Pythagoras, Heraclitus, Parmenides, etc., beginning around 600 BCE. They all contended that no, the gods did not act to harm or help us; the gods had better things to do. Moreover, events were neither supernatural nor inexplicable—they were natural. It is how the world unfolds, and furthermore, it is possible even to learn how these events happen. For example, if you're sick, maybe you ate something nasty. If your child died, maybe a disease caused it. If your army won the war, maybe it was because of superior battle plans. No rain for the last month? Weather patterns must have caused it.

The main point of these ancient scientists was that there is a perfectly natural cause for these things. So the natural philosopher's job is to do some deep thinking—and maybe even run a few primitive experiments—and see if those causes can't be discovered. We should put effort into ferreting out the causes, rather than trying to appease the gods, they taught.

And that's just what they did; they investigated. They were breaking new ground; exploring new territory—without the benefit of much prior knowledge of the natural world. They invented new ideas and derived new hypotheses. It is to be expected that they stumbled a few times. They certainly disagreed with each other and engaged in endless debates. But they began the process of scientific thought.

So let's get back to my own case of recently falling prey to elitist hubristic thinking. Many years ago, while in middle school, I learned that those ancient Greeks, in their attempt to understand the natural world, decided that everything in the universe was constituted of four elements: earth, air, water, and fire. Even as an adolescent I knew that this was wrong. Hey, there are actually over 100 elements, and the periodic table exquisitely and logically lays it all out. In fact, those four Greek elements aren't elements at all, since they really are chemical compounds or molecules made up of several kinds of basic elements.

Without realizing it, I had slowly developed a slightly aloof attitude towards those Greeks of yore. It's such an easy trap to fall into. In fact, we need to put effort into avoiding feeling superior to ancient peoples or to those in the contemporary world who are “less developed” than we are. As I've pondered our propensity to look down upon those less knowledgeable than we are, I think about how folks in the future will look back at our follies and wonder how we could have been so foolish. How harsh will they someday be judging us?

I think there are numerous areas in which our future offspring will be inclined to disdain who we were, what we believed, and what we did. Causing climate change will undoubtedly top the list. But they'll also be scratching their heads over other foolish actions and beliefs of ours, such as racism, great wealth inequality, nuclear weapons, rampant capitalism, pollution, over population, habitat destruction, nationalism, and others. They will wonder why it was that the 20^th and 21^st century humans could have been so muddle headed and blind.

One of the most astute ideas introduced by those ancient Greek scientists was that we humans are, like all animals, part of nature. We are not separate from and perched atop all the world's critters, like the gods may be. We are not removed from all those animals, or fundamentally superior to them, despite the power of our minds. We may be capable of godlike behavior, and our potential is amazing, but even the ancient Greeks understood that we emerged from the natural world and were an integral part of it. Some 2500 years later, it'd be cause for celebration if we elitist, hubristic moderns understood that simple truth. Let's climb down from our privileged presumptive pedestal and exhibit a little well-deserved humility.

Spring Beauties

It's spring and the jonquils are out. Click to enlarge.

Privileged Presumption—Part 1

I was recently discussing with my wife the propensity for people who regard themselves as much better than average or are among the learned class to look down upon those who are less educated than they. It's a very common attitude of those who are literate, cultured, and/or intellectual. They often feel that they are among the privileged class and thus have the right to belittle and slight those who are not educated or are otherwise disempowered. Not content to just look down upon the less fortunate, the elite often feel entitled to tell the masses what to do—after all, their noble position places them at an advantage and the power that they wield enables them to take charge. The privileged ones know best, don't they?

My wife suggested the term “elitist hubris” to describe them. I've titled this post “Privileged Presumption,” as an alternative description (and I like to play with alliteration). Maybe the best example of this attitude over the last several hundred years is the way in which the West (Europe and the US) has dealt with aboriginal and undeveloped people all around the world. Encounters between Western people (who are largely white and powerful) and those less educated and primitive (who are often darker skinned and vulnerable) have most always exhibited some aspect of elitist hubris.

For example, when the Spanish Conquistadors entered the Americas in the 16^th century, they regarded the Incas and Aztecs as inferior people who needed to be subdued and converted. When the European powers entered the African continent in that same time frame, they looked upon the natives there as savages who required domination. Similar events happened in Australia, the Middle East, and the Far East. It was repeated again and again: those with superior knowledge and power believed that they had the right to exert their will on “backwards” people—often under the justification that they were boosting the simple people into the civilized world.

There are two types of groups of people who tend to practice this process of privileged presumption and who often cooperate with each other: academics and the powerful. Those in power have the capacity to enforce their desires on those who are weak. The academics often provide the rationale for what those in power do, in exchange for protection and privileges. Those two groups form a complementary team that solidifies the superior position of both of them.

Another way we moderns sometimes practice elitist hubris is to look down upon people from the past, who did not have the benefit of our superior modern knowledge. It's easy to consider past beliefs and behavior as rather primitive, compared to our advanced knowledge of today. How could those simple people have thought that the sun circles the Earth? How could ancient people have believed in a pantheon of gods, when we know there's but one God? How could those naive people have believed that an amulet could cure disease? We know so much more today, and this knowledge can cause us to look upon the ancients as simplistic people, if not also rather foolish. We rarely pause to note how arrogant and elitist we are behaving, when we do this.

More on hubris next time...

Slow Bumblebee

I found this bumblebee hanging around... not inclined to move very much, so it allowed me to get close to photo it. Was it ill? Was it satiated with spring nectar and thus lazy and happy? Click to enlarge.