The Hames Report

How Long O Lord Will You Forget Me?

From the age of eight, I was a church chorister. Although I turned to Buddhism at the age of thirteen, when it occurred to me that the Bible was a work of fiction brazenly marketed as an implausible sequence of historical events, I cannot claim I felt indoctrinated into the Christian religion. The experience washed over me like a wave, leaving little substantial in its wake, apart from a curiosity in rites and rituals. And myths of course.

The only exception to that indifference might have been when Miss Allen, headmistress and respected spinster, gave me six strokes of her cane across the palm of my hand for not being able to recite the catechism with the precision she obviously desired. This stinging rebuttal to my latent precocity, I felt, was undeniably unkind.

To be fair, on that occasion it might have been more to do with my penchant for impulsive wisecracks. For when asked What is the chief end of man I did not hesitate before replying Having sex - as a witty substitute for the more conventional response which had more to do with glorifying God and enjoying Him forever. In that moment I had imagined my answer to be a valid substitute. But possibly not quite good enough for Miss Allen’s pedantic sensitivities.

On the whole, though, I cherished my childhood, developing a love for church music that remains with me to this day. I particularly enjoyed singing psalms. They were far more beguiling than hymns. Furthermore, it did not occur to me that these ancient verses were in any way unrelated to my own experience of life. On the contrary, they had everything to do with me and my surroundings. They were about my own social inadequacies, the love I received from my mother, my father’s sense of theatre, my brother’s irritations, my friend’s unhappiness...

Even more than that, though, they dealt with what filled the newspapers during the post-war years, and still fuel our attention via social media today… the disillusioned voter, the outcast’s fear, the oligarch’s greed, the leader’s tyranny. Yet 3,000 years have passed. Is that truly the extent of the progress we have made? Are we still attending to the same old problems, reacting with the same levels of emotional maturity, and continuing to behave in a manner that would not have been out of place all those centuries ago?

In a piece I wrote only yesterday, entitled The Wisdom of Generations, I expressed faith in the desire of humanity, and young people in particular, to join together in reinventing our presence on this planet. Today, I feel less optimistic, mostly because of another question. Is it realistic to expect that a family of 7.7 billion hominids can, in the space of a decade, or perhaps two, effect meaningful change in how they inhabit the land, govern their affairs and relate to one another? If we look to history for the answer we are bound to be uneasy.

How quickly, do you suppose, will we be able to embrace a form of entangled humanism, where ingrained reciprocities between humans and other life forms are recognised in law, and a new constitution relevant to sustaining life, can emerge? Our most sacred purpose, simply because no other species has the capacity to accomplish it (unless super-intelligent machines take this matter into their own hands in sheer frustration at our apathy) must be a passion for civilisational renewal - evolving world-systems that easily preserve life within accepted planetary boundaries. How long will that take do you suppose? How soon will we accept the need to turn against brutality and bloodshed in order to wage peace rather than war? How quickly can we turn tribal rivalries into global cooperation? Hate into love? Hubris into humility?

Uncomfortable questions such as these flare more brightly within the bleakest corners of our experience: the insatiable cycle of desire and consumption; the contempt for all life exposed by totalitarian states; acts of terrorism and persecution; economic discrimination entrenched within a universal system that privileges few; mental health problems arising from bullying, or anxiety, or just the simple need to deal the best we can with the malaise afflicting so many in the world today...

These skittering sparks, invariably draw our attention once more to the human condition, to the material world we have constructed that might not be as benign as we had hoped, and the profound issue of how human nature must change - even though how much is even open to being changed is in doubt.

It is hardly surprising that the socio-economic world we have constructed over the past few decades is one that many young people are rejecting. From Chile to Thailand, from India to Russia, and from Hong Kong to Iran, increasing numbers of young people refuse to embrace the fantasy we have so carefully fashioned. Why?

Because they know that meeting the essential needs of each person on the planet - based on current relations between resource use and human well-being - must entail violating several ecological boundaries. They can see this so clearly. This is why they are pointing out that the emperor we worship, neoliberal capitalism, is both naked and limping along on crutches.

We can insist all we like that a majority of citizens worldwide are more prosperous today than was the case a century ago. Carefully selected statistics can be found to prove that point. Of course, those statistics do not account for family violence, terrorism, autism, mental health, political narcissism, or just deep-rooted feelings of unhappiness that hang in the air.

We can also instruct our children to shut up, grow up, and accept reality. But the world we are demanding they tolerate is the one we created. It is our world - not theirs. Clearly they do not detect a viable future, or one that they would actually want, from their collective vantage point. All they know is what they see, and feel, and tell each other: a reality that benefits fewer and fewer people. A world torn apart by greed and inequity. One in which business corporations unduly influence state institutions, and where prejudiced media constantly reinvent the news. A world steered by unelected oligarchs who are reliant on a global economy that is extractive and damaging to human wellbeing. A world of dissolute socio-political models they will need to redesign, if that is still possible, once we decide to get out of their way.

In summary, this is how we can explain why there is so much outrage, targeting incumbent leaders, from young people today. That is why they are showing us their frustrated anger. Little wonder their exasperation spills over into screams of how long o lord will you forget us? What we always forget, or put to one side, is that through our actions we extinguish their hope. We steel their future.

Left unaddressed I would expect the youthquake we are seeing around the world to grow and escalate into civil resistance, riots, insurgency and, quite soon, into political and social revolution. And perhaps such an uprising is the burning platform we need to come to our senses. Perhaps it is the shock that can jolt us out of our arrogance and complacency.

Much of what we understand and accept is contextual of course. I remember explaining to a group of young middle-class entrepreneurs a few years ago, well before the internet had a grip on our awareness, that an increasing majority of their peers could not possibly share their optimism that things were getting better, or that social progress was palpable. The group in question were amazed. They could not comprehend how people their own age, in their own city, were feeling isolated, anxious, depressed, and alienated when life was so good for them.

The two facilitators of this group, both women, were infuriated that I could suggest such an idea. They instantly dismissed it as being incorrect, insisting that I must be mistaken. They even went so far as to accuse me of treachery: implanting dangerous notions that could easily become a self-fulfilling prophecy in the unsuspecting minds of their young charges. I explained that the previous day I had been working with homeless kids, trying to help them find a few shreds of hope for a better future when many of them could not even be sure where their next meal was coming from. But this was considered irrelevant. A truth not to be spoken about too loudly. A world that was best kept hidden lest we are overcome with compassion...

We do not like alternative truths to intrude too much on our daily lives – especially if they chafe and scrape against our most sensitive beliefs. We can be so fragile when we are challenged in such a manner. But fragility can lead to ignorance, while ignorance almost always gives way to apathy. And that is a problem. Apathy is the last thing we need in an era when an unprecedented environmental breakdown is being aggravated by equally exceptional socio-economic, political and cultural stresses.

Personally I welcome the frustration and outrage being displayed by youth globally. It is open and honest. Their heartfelt calls for change are a sign that our species can and will survive. Whether it is religious persecution in India, pro-democracy demonstrations in Hong Kong, or strikes against climate change right around the world, actually matters very little. I applaud any determination to oust corruption and injustice, and any attempt to shame us into informed action.

Life-affirming defiance is an inherent part of adolescence of course. The youth of every era find it in their blood to unsettle the established order. I myself joined the occasional anti-nuclear weapons marches from London to Aldermaston as a teenager. But my motive was the fear of nuclear war rather than anger targeting specific grievances to do with work or inequality.

These new waves of youthful protest are qualitatively different. What we are witnessing is a phenomenon made possible by globalism. The expectations of these people are much higher than in previous generations. They are connected, well-educated, politically charged, mutually aware, more attuned to universal rights such as free speech, and far less likely to be bound by social and religious conventions.

Whether these separate movements will eventually merge, ushering in an age of rapid evolution, or perhaps revolution, is impossible to say at this stage. But the fact there is no discernible common denominator, each social upheaval differing in its detail, other than the factor of youth, is certainly fascinating.

Of one thing we can be sure. In this tide of social unrest and intensifying activism, those in power will not remain impassive for long. Democratic governments are already showing a readiness to lie, manipulate and disinform their citizens, in what will ultimately be a futile effort to manufacture consent. Meanwhile, the pushback from the ruling elites in totalitarian states will be forceful.

Let us hope that youth ultimately prevails. Let us pray, too, that their “lords” (and ours) will not forget them. Are we really so arrogant and stupid enough to believe that wisdom resides only with those elected or appointed to lead when that leadership is so obviously failing us? Instead of sidelining them, or simply putting up with their transgressions, let the next step be us working together to help overcome our blind spots so that we are better able to make the urgent transition from exploration and degradation to curation and regeneration.

The Wisdom of Generations

Did you know that at the equator, the Earth spins at a fixed rate of around 1,000 miles an hour? Probably not. The reason you cannot feel it turning is that, along with everything else on the surface of the planet, including the oceans, the forests and the cities, we are all spinning at the same constant speed.

Movement and synchrony are signs of vitality and of progress. Clues that we are alive. They are one of life’s constants - even if we do not notice them. To remain static is to be moribund. Or dead! Although we are not usually all that sensitive to the pace of change, and certain events, like the nine months gestation period it takes to grow a baby, do not vary much, it is remarkable how human knowledge and expertise have been accelerating exponentially since the dawn of history. Let me give you an example from my own life.

I stopped writing music in 1984 – a year before my 40^th birthday. Although this was an intensely poignant decision at the time, since I had been composing music almost daily since the age of five, there were a number of valid reasons for discontinuing. For one thing I felt the urge to experiment with words rather than sounds. I had become jaded by the solitary nature of composition, and the competititve nature of the profession was sapping my love for the art of music-making and performance. But mostly it was because my music, dubbed by critics as part of thenew complexity - a surefire way to kill off any interest on the part of concert-going audiences incidentally - was played by fewer and fewer musicians. Meanwhile the number of people who were inclined to attend concerts of “cerebral art” was shrinking. I had to face facts. Being a composer of modern classical music had become an indulgence I could no longer afford. What is the point of relating this story?

The last piece I wrote was a 24 minute music-theatre work called Quete - for percussion. It had been commissioned by a brilliant student of mine at the Victorian College of the Arts. Peter Neville, a member of Elision Ensemble, lauded internationally for its virtuosic flair and courageous programs, was one of the most talented young musicians in Australia at the time. Regrettably, the piece made so many demands on the performer, and required such dexterity, that it was pronounced unplayable.

Quete remained unheard for the next 32 years. Then, in February 2016, Kaylie Dunstan, a final year student at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, decided to include the work in her graduation recital.  She played this incredibly complex piece from memory, to a highly appreciative audience, with a precision and sense of maturity that was breathtaking.

The same story in terms of skills development can be seen in sport. Jackie Charlton, who played in the soccer team that won the World Cup in 1966, recently acknowledged that the current England team would most likely demolish his old team with their superior use of data, intensive training techniques, spontaneous inventiveness, individual skills and levels of fitness. I imagine that the same principle would apply to most fields of endeavour where performance expertise, physical endurance, mental toughness and agility are on display.

A related issue is the time it takes for entire societies to adjust to new technologies and to adapt to changing conditions. In our modern world the interval between conceptual design, commercialisation, and market uptake is extremely compressed. In 1995 hardly anyone knew about the Internet. Barely a decade later it had become so ubiquitous that we could not imagine life without it. At the beginning of 2007, nobody had even seen a touch-screen smart phone with a camera. Steve Jobs unveiled the first ever iPhone in January of that year. By 2017 over 66 per cent of the population owned a smartphone with its music streaming and photographic capabilities considered the most important components.

Each of these trends represents a radical shift in the ways we are able to live, play, work, entertain and engage with each other. But there is a deeper, more profound pattern here that links to my initial ideas about new skills acquisition and development. For underlying each shift is the astonishing rate at which knowledge is discovered and applied. The just-in-time industry vogue of the 1970’s has given way to a real-time actuality in diverse fields. The ultimate leap forward in this regard is the noosphere of regenerative consciousness, which is already informing the reinvention of failing systems including energy, agriculture, education, social wellbeing, human relations, and so much more.

This is exceptionally good news for humanity. It is symbolic of our flexibility in the face of circumstances that threaten to disrupt every organisation and institution on the planet. Of course there are tricky pathological disorders still to be overcome – like our inexplicable readiness to espouse scientism as the only means by which society can establish norms and epistemological values. But at least we can now have renewed confidence in our potential to address those worse case scenarios that have so many of us throwing up our hands in horror and declaring the end of life as we know it.

Obviously the difference between being able to deploy knowledge rapidly, aided by the digital development of both human and machine acumen and skills, and wisdom (that is accepting the need for substantial change in the first place) raises further issues. But even then the situation is possibly more optimistic than not.

The youthquake of activism and civil disobedience spreading around the world is a sign that young people everywhere are refusing to become heirs to the avaricious world we have been so busy making on their behalf. They see through our hypocrisy and have no intention of being bullied into compliance by unelected oligarchs. They are making their voices heard and I doubt they will want to compromise.

If we can avoid gender-biased coding and diverse ethical traps, artificial intelligence will be used to make the world work for everyone. New modes of organising, such as peer-to-peer models and revitalised cooperatives, will erode the more predatory aspects of capitalism. Experiments with how power is exercised will eventually offer more engaging forms of democratised governance.

But the greatest hope for human durability and prosperity is a barely-visible tipping point: the speed at which we will agree to cooperate to redesign human presence on Earth.

The darkest hours are just before the dawn. And dark forces of destruction are stalking civilisation today. I believe these will be transitory and that a new dawn is on the horizon. We must be thankful in that regard for the various crises afflicting us – from our addiction to materialism, pressure from 7.7 billion people causing the failure of our most life-critical systems, the culture of fear that incites us to blame others for our predicament, and the anxiety and distress that perpetuates the illusion buying more and more stuff will bring happiness, when we already know that is not the case. For while these burning platforms are certainly dangerous, and pose a very real risk, the determination to resolve them is becoming a tsunami.

The regenerative impulse lies deep within the human soul. Although the future is a fairly meaningless concept for most people, the decisions we take tomorrow will be critical. For it is then we will realise the need to let go of those parts of our nature that are destructive and bring us only pain.

Instead we will find ways to inhale the joy of what it actually means to be a sentient human being. The most powerful emotion we can harness is unconditional love for life. That, and the realisation we are not separate from each other, nor from the planet in which we all live, will free the most profound renewal of the human species in our history.

It will not be forced. Nor can it be engineered to any great extent. Ironically that fact alone is sufficient to alarm those among us who try to control every outcome.

This transformation will be born of its own accord, in its own way, in its own time. How can I be so sure? Because there is simply no other way if we are to avoid extinction or living in an environment that is toxic to health and well-being. Only as a unified family, rather than separate competing tribes, will we rediscover the wisdom of generations, and use this to transcend history and our own prior accomplishments.

War in a World Manufactured by Men

Like it or not we are all related to one another. As homo sapiens, sharing a home we call Earth, it is not surprising that we should exhibit similar desires, and voice almost identical needs. The patterns of our collective experience are remarkably similar. Those factors that separate us are not so numerous, nor as implanted, as the elements that unite and define us.

We are remarkably adaptive and resilient. Inventive too. Indeed, our resourcefulness seems to know no bounds. The inspirational art and music we craft, the extravagant structures we engineer, the fictions we conjure up, the science and philosophies that engross us, and the intricate systems we design, mark us out as an exceptional, if not unique, life form.

So why do we find it so hard to get along? Why is it so difficult to reconcile our differences, particularly when these are often so trivial in retrospect? Why are we fearful of each other when diversity is primarily responsible for generating the insights and breakthroughs we use to develop how we think and what we do? Why is it that we devote so much energy battling and defending ourselves from each other? What are we frightened of?

Is it really the embodiment of an advanced civilisation that we resort to slaughtering each other at the slightest provocation - particularly when we have access to such a wide variety of modes of expression, including sophisticated tools for visualisation and analysis, that can be applied to resolve almost any dispute? In theory it should be easy. So why do we find it so impossibly challenging?

Whenever I have posed this, or comparable questions, in the past I have invariably received bewildered looks. It is as though the question itself is either invalid, or that the answer is so obvious that I must be demented for asking it in the first place. From the responses I usually get I might conclude that aggression is an innate human quality - the impulsive exercise of unconcealed rage on a power spectrum ranging from deference to defiance. In other words, it is just human nature - like breathing or sleeping, it is hard-wired into our very being and consequently true, about every human, every time.

If that really is the case, we can forget about becoming less violent. It is commonly accepted that human nature is inherently fixed and almost impossible to change. This bundle of ways of knowing, feeling, relating and acting is the core of who we are as human beings. It follows that if a proposition runs counter to human nature it is bound to fail.

But I wonder if that is always true. Are we attributing more to human nature than is actually deserved? If so, could we be using it as an excuse, in order that pursuits best suited to some sections of society can prevail unchallenged?

We know that societies develop and change. Indeed, this is why torture and execution as a public spectacle is no longer acceptable. A growing aversion to brutality, too, means we have less tolerance for conflict today than we did a century ago. Increasingly war is regarded as immoral and barbaric. But is that type of societal impulse accurately reflected in personal preferences? We are told that individual temperament changes only slightly over an entire lifetime - unless we actually want it to, and do something to cause such a shift.

On the other hand, basic traits, a synthesis of our genetic heritage and the environment in which we grew up, are merely the starting points for our evolving identity. The impact from continually changing external conditions can alter any epigenetic predispositions we have at birth. Moreover, the brain's plasticity allows for its reconfiguration - both functionally and structurally. Taken together, this means that while social norms and institutions invariably influence and condition individuals, each one of us can help shape the society of which we are a part. It turns out that human nature is not static, but a dynamic condition that adapts and morphs over time. So why would we not deliberately set about changing our relations with each other in order to be less aggressive and more compassionate?

Perhaps we do have an innate antipathy to some things. We are constantly told that certain emotions - like greed, envy and selfishness - are hard-wired. But is that really the case? Take selfishness for example. If it is in our nature to be selfish, how can we account for the many volunteers, carers, and rescue workers that give their time, and occasionally even their lives, helping others in distress? Given that these are unexceptional individuals, not some super-human of the kind to be found in Marvel comics, we must conclude they are either atypical of the majority in some other way or, far more likely, that selfishness is actually not intrinsic to human nature.

A far more observable trait is that the things we learn to think, believe, say and do together often display innate group characteristics. Thus, it is a more acceptable notion that cultural norms, rather than human nature per se, once formed, are innate. Members of a music club differ from a rowing fraternity, for example. One university college will diverge from others on the same campus. The energy in a government agency is dissimilar to that in a high-tech startup. Their cultures are different - and noticeably so.

Sometimes these differences are subtle. At other times stark. But they invariably have two qualities in common. They are all shaped by particular sets of beliefs; and they all cultivate distinct impulses and behaviours - usually fitting the expectations and needs of members.

Now let us return to the question I posed at the beginning of this essay. Is human aggression and the impulse to fight wars an intrinsic part of being human? Or is it more likely to be the shared cultural characteristic of a particular group?

At the risk of offending half the population I am opting for the latter. The class I am pointing to comprises roughly 49 per cent of humanity. It is the male genus. There will always be a few individual exceptions. But, by and large, wars are conceived, overseen and fought by men who are excited by other men. This is not simply a statistical fact. Pluck and bravery remain an early part of male conditioning - aggression imbuing the adult male psyche as toughness and fraternal courage.

Before my male readers become apoplectic and leap to collective outrage, let me set this proposition in a more granular context. That of design. It matters little what aspect of public and private life we choose to examine. Research overwhelmingly shows that we live in a world designed by men for men. In that world merit is a myth and the default design bias is male.

From orchestral auditions and job promotion to urban transportation, algorithms, medicinal doses, medical diagnoses, fashion, disaster management, government policy, public toilets - even the language we use on a daily basis - the majority of objects, places, spaces, strategies and processes we use have been designed by men and are biased towards men, with scant regard paid to the needs of the female gender. The lives and experiences of men have been taken to represent humanity as a whole. They are the default.

As Simone de Beauvoir said: Representation of the world, like the world itself, is the work of men; they describe it from their own point of view, which they confuse with the absolute truth. [1]

How does all of this relate to the issue of aggression, and the urgent need to attenuate our primitive fascination with war? Is bellicosity, and the urge to manufacture more destructive weaponry, primarily a cultural impulse to be found (not exclusively, but predominantly) in the male population? If so how should we begin to design for a world in which aggression becomes less valued than empathy, for example?

Over the centuries war has gradually lost all purpose. Today it makes absolutely no sense - even when all else has failed. War is costly (financially and psychologically) and provides no benefits to society - it does not guarantee freedom, prosperity, or even future peace. On the contrary its legacy is social dislocation, the loss of innocent life, environmental destruction, and moral bankruptcy.

Most modern military leaders, with few exceptions, acknowledge there are no longer any advantages to be gained from aggression of this kind - not from regime change, and certainly not from invasion and occupation. Rape and pillage are crimes against humanity while the costs of war - including dispossession, humiliation, and trauma, simply generate resentment and further provocation.

Besides, the amount we spend on preparing for wars, fighting them, and dealing with the devastation caused by war, could mitigate climate change, eliminate poverty, and provide free education and healthcare for every person on the planet many times over.

So how should we go about designing a world in which war is largely eliminated? If it is not in our nature to go to war, but only a default cultural mechanism within one sector of the society, then surely the way is clear for a leap of consciousness in how we evolve without resorting to aggressive behaviour. The first step might be to elect many more women into positions of power.

In that respect it will be instructive to keep a close eye on pioneers like Jacinda Adern in New Zealand, Sanna Marin in Finland, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortex in the US. Will their presence lead to more gender-neutral public policies? And, if so, will they counteract the inherent bias for aggression and war-mongering, which warriors past and present insist is simply human nature? Or will they, too, submit to conventional wisdom - that aggression and war is an innate part of what it means to be human?

 

[1] Further examples of male bias and their effects can be found in Caroline Criado-Perez's recent book, Invisible Women: Exposing data bias in a world designed for men, published by Random House, 2019.