Piute Log...My Deer Friends, Part 2

 Deer were a continual presence in my world. A constant. I’d see them every day, out on the trail or grazing in the meadow, near the cabin or off in the distance, lending the scene a pastoral air the way large grazing animals do. ◦◦◦◦◦ There was one thing in particular that changed, or rather established, my “relationship” with the local deer: the big hunk of compressed salt sitting on the flushed stump of a fallen lodgepole about ten yards from the cabin’s south window. Of course, animals require salt and working livestock, with all the sweating they do, need a steady supply. It turns out that deer have a powerful craving for it as well. When I first started visiting the cabin the salt block was out in the corral, which was behind a rock outcrop and not visible from the cabin. I’d see deer heading there constantly and, at some point, got the bright idea that if it were closer to the cabin, I could watch them come and go. (Interestingly, I never saw any other forest critters at the salt aside from Cassin’s finches, pine siskins, red crossbills, and pine grosbeaks—all members of the finch family. No other birds.) ◦◦◦◦◦ The salt block changed everything, adding a dee-lightful new element to my life. Suddenly, there was a steady stream of large wild animals just loitering around, right outside. I discovered that there was a network of trails, like spokes on a wheel, all leading to my front yard. Deer from all over would come visit. Many I recognized and would see regularly. Over the course of seventeen summers, I spent a fair amount of time standing by that window or out on the porch watching little deer-dramas unfold and learned many things, things that I’d never imagined. (What intensely curious animals they are, for one thing—curious as cats.) I saw spotted Bambis turn into deer-teenagers…watched young bucks settling scores and does being flat-out mean to each other for no apparent reason. We’d all stare at each other, each wondering who exactly it was staring back. I understood early on that no deer was ever going to trust me and that I’d never come close to knowing what was inside them. But deer enriched my life in ways that I can’t explain. They impart a sense of wellbeing—a soothing reassurance that all is as it should be.

8 Jun 2000     Fine day. Deer in the yard since I put out the salt block two days ago. (One if the first things I do every spring….) ◦◦◦◦◦ [That evening:] Took a bath on the slabs, frigid quick-dip in cool wind with big snowpatch ten feet away. Enjoyed making acquaintance with the new crop of young deer in the yard.

9 Jul     ◦◦◦◦◦ Watched a five-point velvet-antlered buck out on the salt block. A doe was with him but he kept chasing her away. Then the two went off in opposite directions. I’d assumed they were a couple but…Duh!! Bucks and does don’t travel together in the summer, remember? ◦◦◦◦◦

5 Aug     Woke up, got outa bed, looked out the window first thing as per usual. Yowza! Count ‘em: three huge, well-endowed bucks gathered around the salt block stump. Never seen so much bulk deer-flesh and -antler in my yard at one time! Two of the trio were 5-pointers—twice forked horn with eye-guard [a smallish nubbin, low on the antler]. The biggest of the big fellas, the one with widest spread, had six points on one side (one tip just starting to branch) with five on the other. A magnificent creature who weighs at least as much as the ranger, fully clothed with boots on. Engrossed, I watched all three dipping on the lick at the same time and from my window it looked like all their antlers were tangled in a snarled knot. Biggest big-fella soon became annoyed, flailed at the others with his front hooves and ran ‘em off (mean grump). Then back for more while the other two looked on, cowed. He licked and licked and kept on lickin’…was at it for a half-hour straight. Made me pucker up just thinking about it….  He came back repeatedly through the morning hours and, later, I watched him going after Lucy. He was intensely curious about her, completely focused. ◦◦◦◦◦

14 Oct     ◦◦◦◦◦ When we got home there were seven deer at the salt block. I was up on Woody, leading Val. Three does, four deerlets, all in their new gray spot-free autumn plumage. Quite the charming vignette. Haven’t seen any deer for a couple weeks now (hunting season—everybody “laying low” apparently) but I know they’ve been coming in the night to get their fix. What was special about this incident was how they let us crash their party—all of ‘em clustered around the stump, acting like they owned the place—and just carried on licking, with the multi-tongued lapping sounds clearly audible in the silence. The delicate-featured gray late-fawns gaped at me like they’d never seen a human…moms, completely unconcerned. (Their unconcern a “teaching moment” for the youngsters, perhaps.) Rode up real slow, trying to see how far we could take this before they all bounded off. Woody was eyeing them with obvious interest. Val, dunno. I tried not to stare. By no means the first time we’ve ridden up on them while they were at it but this was maybe the closest we’ve ever come. Everybody was jostling for a place at the table and clearly nobody wanted to leave. I got Woody to the hitch rail but they’d become nervous and backed off a little. ◦◦◦◦◦ At this point, Piute entered the picture in dramatic fashion. After waiting all day for his friends’ return, he fell in line behind us right after we crossed the river and followed us into the yard. Then did something outrageous but entirely in-character: a cantankerous bully, Piute took one look at the interlopers…and ran them off! With ears pinned back and a Clint Eastwood menacing squint, he lowered his head and slowly walked toward the pack. His message, clear: MY salt! Beat it, assholes! Leave NOW! Piute can be a real jerk. He broke the magic spell, spoiled the moment. Thanks a lot, pal. ◦◦◦◦◦ Living here, I’ve always had this fantasy: that the wildlings would accept my presence to the point that I could saddle my horses, walk around the yard, sit around a fire, whatever…walk right past them and they’d just go on about their business while I went about my own. That’s all. Just not be feared, not be seen as a threat. As a kid, I remember seeing these religious pictures, variations on a common theme: a seated Jesus with children in his lap and at his feet, each of them gazing up at him in adoration with various wild animals gathered ‘round as well, more in the background. There were a number of versions; pretty much every Christian family had one in their homes. I remember looking at ours, wishing wild animals would come hang out with me and have no fear. I had no interest whatsoever in white-robed Jesus (always spotless white robes) or the adoring children at his feet. It was all about the notion of how great it would be to have animals accept me that way. I’m suppose my childish reaction is pretty much universal but I’ve always had this “ideal”—a fantasy image of myself as part human/part animal, able to mingle freely with the wild ones. That’s why I’m always thrilled, like today, whenever they let me into their world—even a little. ◦◦◦◦◦

11 Aug 2002     ◦◦◦◦◦ This eve a hale 5-point buck showed up in the yard and worked at the salt block off’n’on for maybe an hour. Rare to see one around the cabin in broad daylight in August (bucks mostly hanging out on high ridgetops now) but as always a treat. Aside from the ever-unseen lions and seldom-seen bears, buck deer are the sole “big game” animals in these parts and there’s that special something about large animals…probably based on respect for (fear of?) their physical strength as much as the visual appeal. I suspect this handsome fella was so nonchalant because he was raised around here and has known me since his ma started bringing him around, back when he was still in spots.

 

           ©2021 Tim Forsell               19 Feb 2021

Biocomplexity: The Third Infinity...Prologue (Part 2 of 2)

We have here the latest (hopefully last) version of the prologue to my book-length treatise The Demeaning of Life, now entitled Biocomplexity: The Third Infinity. I’ll present it in two parts…this is some prettty rich food-for-thought. ◦◦◦◦◦ The subtitle, I should explain, refers to seventeenth century mathematician and philosopher Rene Pascal’s positioning of humankind between two infinities—the infinitely small and the infinitely large. Others have subsequently proposed a “third infinity”—the infinitely complex, as encountered in nature. ◦◦◦◦◦ This is a significant rewrite of the opening to what started out as a lengthy essay, began in 2012. (If I may say so, it’s very much improved.) The subject? Wellll…it’s complicated. In ten-words-or-less, it’s about The Meaning of Life. More to the point, I draw attention to the notion that the whole of life—the “phenomenon” of living matter—is in serious need of revision. Fact of the matter is, no one really knows what life is…much less, how it got started, why it works so well and why there’s so much of it. With time’s passage, science has come to rely almost exclusively on truly astonishing technologies. But as we probe deeper and deeper into what were once rank mysteries, biology has veered away from its original focus—the study of living organisms—turning into almost a sub-branch of both chemistry and physics. With ever-greater attention on minutiae, driven by data mass collection, biologists have gradually lost sight of the bigger picture. Their findings have revealed that the degree of complexity and sophistication we see throughout nature can no longer be viewed as a product of randomness and chance. Natural selection is not the sole driver of evolution. And no one has the slightest clue about how life began in the first place. Drafts of chapters I’ve posted previously explore these things and more, adding layers to my argument that the entire field of biology is in need of a reboot. ◦◦◦◦◦ From the last paragraph of this prologue:  “With an approach emulating Darwin’s Origin of Species, this work too boils down to ‘one long argument,’ bringing together a range of up-to-date information and evidence from many scientific fields as fodder for thoughtful speculation. Its objective: to present an alternative way of looking at the natural world.” 

 

Prologue.  Problem? What Problem? (Part 2)

 

As things stand, many of those reading these words would be, not just unmoved, but would instinctively react with something between skepticism and outrage. Question science? Heresy! Given the heady, hi-tech climate of our times, few people are ready and willing to contemplate what amounts to a simple, reasoned appeal to scientific humility. Why are so many so confident we understand things that in truth we don’t fully understand? Answers to these questions can be traced to our cultural milieu and how it affects the way we perceive the world, think about it, talk about it, and write about it.

In philosophy, “empiricism” is the belief that knowledge is derived from sensory experience (as opposed to pure reason or intuition) and that knowledge once gained is tentative and subject to continual revision. One of science’s major precepts is the notion that any entity can best be understood by way of an approach based on observation and experiment—what we call the “scientific method.” Despite recognized limits to the empirical pursuit of knowledge, with its baked-in acceptance of doubt and emphasis on non-certainty, many people—scientists and non-scientists alike—remain convinced that biology’s thorniest problems will eventually yield to technological innovation wielded by creative minds. Those less sanguine about scientific progress in general see life as an abiding mystery, an enigma the human mind can’t fully comprehend. Either way, life’s deep-rooted complexities are daunting to behold and most scientists freely admit that we’re a long way from anything like a complete understanding of nature, of life. (Some, that we’ve barely scratched the surface.) 

But even among those who realize just how far we are from a thorough understanding of living nature, few are willing to entertain the notion that shadowy biological life-laws await discovery—namely, legitimate physical/chemical principles relevant only to animated matter. Elemental laws of nature whose cryptic influences produce little in the way of measureable (or even observable) evidence. Skeptics dismiss this idea as laughable. But note: since the mid-twentieth century scientific progress has relied almost exclusively on costly instrumentation and is largely data-driven. As a result, there’s a widespread conviction that what our highly sophisticated instruments can’t identify and measure isn’t strictly real. I believe this attitude blinds us to the possibility that subtle biological principles await discovery—principles that have somehow eluded detection. Eminent scientists including theoretical physicists Paul Davies and Freeman Dyson, molecular biologist Franklin Harold, and biophysicist Harold Morowitz have all suggested as much—and they’re by no means alone. Each maintain that imaginative, unorthodox ways of looking at long-standing problems, problems like the origin of life, are essential if we hope to plug gaps in our ever-expanding body of scientific knowledge. But funding for such quixotic ventures is at present nonexistent and few are willing to risk reputation and career to go off tilting at theoretical windmills. 

Another important point needs to be introduced straight away: the idea of life’s innate hyper-complexity. To be more specific: the concept of complexification as an inescapable spin-off of life’s penchant for generating order from chaos. From here on, biological complexity in all its manifestations will be treated as an attribute of living matter—an innate characteristic common to all life forms…a quality…a “thing.” As such, it merits designation and I’ve settled on the word “biocomplexity” to denote the concept. [footnote: For some time I was under the impression that I’d invented a new term…only to learn that, as of 1999, “biocomplexity” had been introduced as a discrete area of study examining “properties emerging from the interplay of behavioral, biological, chemical, physical, and social interactions that affect, sustain, or are modified by living organisms, including humans.” The word will be used here in its wider sense, as a quality arising from the multilevel interactions exhibited by all life forms.] The recognition of biocomplexity as a discrete feature common to all forms of life will bring us closer to understanding life’s deeper nature.  

As for the biological machine metaphor, this centuries-old depiction of living things as machines skirts critical differences. Machines, by definition, have to be designed and assembled. Machines don’t build themselves…can’t replicate or carry out self-repair. Machines never “evolve” or adapt on their own. They lack autonomy and agency—the capacity to act. In contrast, primitive microbes employ staggeringly elaborate schemes to steer development, reproduction, communication, regulation, and maintenance. Investigators have never been able to locate, in any type of life form, a centralized command center that governs the whole organism. In fact, biologists are just beginning to confront the notion that every developmental or regulatory influence is subject to further regulation, also regulated—an infinite regress with no vertical hierarchy, no “higher” or “lower,” nothing that can be said to be in charge. 

With any highly complex matter, inapt terminology leads to misinterpretation and error. It’s clear that our limited grasp of life-as-phenomenon is partly due to linguistic deficiency. Right now—lacking suitable terminology, there’s no way to accurately express what I’m attempting to describe. But this is what we’re faced with: all living things and all their entangled life-systems are guided by some form of whole-organism, decentralized, coordinating influence that beggars description. This is the root of the “problem.” We’ll delve into all this later, but for now—this thing deserves a name. Call it what you will; call it ”shared organismal intelligence.” Or call it “life-logic.“ But call it something. To give whatever-it-is a face, to make whatever-it-is real. So that we can start talking freely about matters of genuine consequence. To that end: in order to underscore its singular nature, when being considered as a collective phenomenon in all its wholeness and unity, “life” will henceforth be rendered “LIFE.” 

Returning once more to the machine metaphor: machine language fails to convey the essence of coordinated, cooperative interactions taking place in organs and tissues and cells. Machine terminology explicitly denies the organism agency and excludes the narrative thread of its event-full life. Likewise, the proliferating use of computer jargon in biology has a similar effect by fostering a sense that organisms are preprogrammed automatons running on binary code. Using bio-free language is counterproductive, guaranteeing that crucial aspects of the LIFE phenomenonget lost in translation. 

All scientific fields go through adjustment phases and periodic course corrections. As we come to a fuller understanding of how the living world operates, innovative scientific terms will materialize as need arises, leaping into common usage virtually overnight—words and phrases with just the right tenor and tone to complement a more nuanced view of LIFE. An updated biological lexicon will shift focus from mechanism and information-processing to address LIFE’s subtler, qualitative aspects. (For example: at present, we lack discrete terms that could help elucidate borderline taboo subjects—like the intentional actions, the behaviors exhibited by plants, cells, microbes…even viruses.) The future will see other changes including the introduction of biological principles and hypotheses that have what might be called a different “flavor.” For instance, some proposals will be couched in language that can address LIFE’s signature paradoxical qualities. Similar to what’s currently taking place in modern cosmology, working theories will be derived from impossible-to-prove inferences that, nonetheless, agree with observation. This approach to biological theorizing, while clearly limited in scope, may yet be capable of shining some light on unsolved problems. As always, change will be met with staunch resistance. Biology, like present-day cosmology, will soon be pressing up against the boundary between science and metaphysics; controversy and discord will be rife. Anticipating the coming challenges, celebrated twentieth-century microbiologist Carl Woese wrote, “A future biology cannot be built within the conceptual superstructure of the past. The old superstructure has to be replaced by a new one before the holistic problems of biology can emerge as biology’s new mainstream….”  

Scientists attempt “to explain the unknown with the knowable,” devising theories whose objective is to describe or explain natural phenomena. Theories are then subjected to tests that can establish or refute their validity as part of a stepwise process. That’s all. Scientific theories aim for accurate representations of reality, not final answers. Nothing in science is permanently settled; there are no indisputable facts, only suppositions presumed to be valid until proven otherwise. One of my objectives is to challenge long-standing assumptions and fixed positions. In that light, I invite readers to approach this material in the spirit of open scientific inquiry, which simply asks us 1) to question assumptions and beliefs and then, 2) be willing to modify them as new information presents itself. While these venerable axioms likely seem self-evident, it needs to be emphasized: we are fallible beings—creatures of deep habit, mental as well as behavioral, continually subject to influences that impact the way we perceive…everything. Evolutionary biologist Lynn Margulis:

 

Our outlooks shape what we see and how we know. Any idea we conceive as fact or truth is integrated into an entire style of thought, of which we are usually unaware…. Call the dominating inhibitions that determine our point of view whatever you wish. They affect all of us, including scientists. All are saddled with heavy linguistic, national, regional, and generational impediments to perception. Like those of everyone else, the scientist’s hidden assumptions affect his or her behavior, unwittingly directing thought.

 

Wise words. As for my own perceptual impediments: with no ideological axe to grind and no conventional philosophy or religion to uphold, I simply wish to know—to the  extent my limited faculties permit—why our world is the way it is. With an approach emulating that of Darwin’s Origin of Species, the work in hand comprises “one long argument,” bringing together a broad range of up-to-date information and evidence from diverse scientific fields as fodder for imaginative speculation. Its objective: to present an alternative way of looking at the natural world, to view what I’ve termed LIFE through a new lens. My hope is that readers will take away a heightened appreciation for all the wonders that surround us…wonders that live within us.                                        

          ©2021 Tim Forsell              7 Sep 2021                                                    

 

 

Biocomplexity: The Third Infinity...Prologue (Part 1 of 2)

We have here the latest (hopefully last) version of the prologue to my book-length treatise The Demeaning of Life, now entitled Biocomplexity: The Third Infinity. I’ll be presenting it in two parts…this is some pretty rich food-for-thought. ◦◦◦◦◦ The subtitle, I should explain, refers to seventeenth century mathematician and philosopher Rene Pascal’s positioning of humankind between two infinities—the infinitely small and the infinitely large. Others have subsequently proposed a “third infinity”—the infinitely complex, as encountered in nature. ◦◦◦◦◦ This is a significant rewrite of the opening to what started out as a lengthy essay, began in 2012. (If I may say so, it’s very much improved.) The subject? Wellll…it’s complicated. In ten-words-or-less, it’s about The Meaning of Life. More to the point, I draw attention to the notion that the whole of life—the “phenomenon” of living matter—is in serious need of revision. Fact of the matter is, no one really knows what life is…much less, how it got started, why it works so well and why there’s so much of it. With time’s passage, science has come to rely almost exclusively on truly astonishing technologies. But as we probe deeper and deeper into what were once rank mysteries, biology has veered away from its original focus—the study of living organisms—turning into almost a sub-branch of both chemistry and physics. With ever-greater attention on minutiae, driven by data mass collection, biologists have gradually lost sight of the bigger picture. Their findings have revealed that the degree of complexity and sophistication we see throughout nature can no longer be viewed as a product of randomness and chance. Natural selection is not the sole driver of evolution. And no one has the slightest clue about how life began in the first place. Drafts of chapters I’ve posted previously explore these things and more, adding layers to my argument that the entire field of biology is in need of a reboot. ◦◦◦◦◦ From the last paragraph of this prologue:  “With an approach emulating Darwin’s Origin of Species, this work too boils down to ‘one long argument,’ bringing together a range of up-to-date information and evidence from many scientific fields as fodder for thoughtful speculation. Its objective: to present an alternative way of looking at the natural world.”

Prologue.  Problem? What Problem? (Part 1)

The reality of organic systems is vastly untidy. If only their parts were all distinct, with specific functions for each! Alas, these systems are not like machines. Our human minds have as little intuitive feeling for organic complexity as they do for quantum physics.   

         Randolph Nesse

SCIENCE MAY WELL BE HUMANITY’S greatest innovation, extending perception of the observable universe beyond what we can see and touch to encompass the infinitely small and inconceivably distant. In the broadest sense, “science” is a mode of thought, a process of inquiry, an intellectual tool. We need reminding from time to time that science as we know it has been around for only a few hundred years—not long at all, especially when you take into account the prodigious accomplishments of cultures that existed for millennia prior to sixteenth-century Europe’s Scientific Revolution. And while most of us have a solid sense of what science is, it can be hard to put that understanding into words. After all, science’s origins—even how to define the word—have been subject to endless debate. (Scholars still argue over matters like Who deserves most credit for ushering in the modern era?) Amazingly, it wasn’t until the early nineteenth century that science’s so-called modern era begin to take shape, with all its familiar professional institutions and conventions and arcane terminology in place. And then things took off in earnest: in no time at all ordinary human beings deconstructed atomic nuclei, probed the far reaches of space, and began to dream of other universes. Nuclear physicists have identified scores of short-lived subatomic particles, with no end in sight. At the other end of the spectrum, a telescope in low Earth orbit transmits digital information back to the surface to be converted into photographic images like the one showing hundreds of galaxies that look like fuzzy stars, galaxies so distant they appear as they would have looked shortly after the Big Bang. Monumental endeavors like these have come to seem almost commonplace. Strange, that we seldom pause to think about just how remarkable it all is. All of it. All thanks to science and hard working scientists. 

And us (that is, humans)—sole surviving lineage of an evolutionary experiment that may or may not stand the test of time. Our primal ancestors just showed up one day; a new species of mid-sized mammal that fashioned its own niche by standing on two legs, freeing up the hands. They hunted, gathered, and scavenged much like other animals but lacking sharp teeth and claws had to rely on their wits to survive, resulting in a burst of evolutionary innovation. These proto-humans learned how to learn. Grunts and growls morphed into language and song. Their dexterous hands were seldom idle and the cleverest among them stumbled on novel ways of doing and making. Tools were contrived, fire tamed. Over time, some of their daily activities came to have little connection with procuring food or otherwise helping ensure survival—music and art, for instance. Against odds a few small bands persisted and eventually thrived. Generation after generation passed on to their young the experiential wisdom they’d acquired. And now, thanks entirely to descendents of our early forbears, we have microwave ovens, GPS navigation, and digital-everythings at our disposal. Contemporary versions of those distant relatives perform arthroscopic surgeries and design transgenic food crops. We discovered ways to harvest the energy of the atom and transform entire landscapes to suit our needs—even figured out how to build better mousetraps. 

Again, this vast reservoir of scientific know-how was gained practically overnight, mostly through the efforts of regular people working in labs and observatories or out in the field, driven by sheer curiosity and that uniquely human desire to know. To understand. Today, the fruits of our highly advanced technologies, developed over mere decades, are widely available to the unwashed masses—things our great-grandparents would never have imagined possible. (My mother’s mother, born shortly before the first airplane flight, watched men walk on the moon…and then saw thirty more summers.) But as for us: life in the twenty-first century makes it even harder to fathom just how far we’ve come as a species since those strange arboreal primates warily emerged from a forest somewhere in East Africa, squinting in the harsh light there at the edge of their first New World. How could it be that in only six million years or so—minutes, in geologic time—bipedal ape-like creatures with opposable thumbs went from crafting crude stone implements to fabricating microchips and reusable rocket ships? Amazing. But it was the gift of one particular invention—science—that made such things a reality. 

Hi-tech wonders aside, the imaginative use of standard scientific techniques can yield startling, unanticipated discoveries. Just think: chemical analysis of two completely unrelated materials (mineral deposits in caves and minute air bubbles trapped in ancient polar ice) has allowed meteorologists to recreate primordial atmospheres and paleoclimates. By splicing a human gene containing instructions for producing insulin onto bacterial DNA and then cultivating these genetically modified microbes in vats, single-celled organisms are in effect turned into chemical factories. And now we receive accurate—accurate!—seven-day weather forecasts, available around the clock thanks to that pocket-sized computer no one leaves home without. Near-miracles like these are legion. Human ingenuity appears to be almost without limit.

But there’s another side to this story. All our stunning technical achievements, placed alongside an equally impressive stock of hard-won knowledge: the sum total shines a spotlight on certain pivotal questions—questions thus far stubbornly resistant to scientific inquiry. Some notable examples: 

Atomic matter—that is, what our world is made of—accounts for a mere five percent of the universe’s mass-energy. The other ninety-five percent consists of unknown, undetectable forms of matter (“dark matter”) and energy (“dark energy”). 

Scientists still have little more than vague notions of how life sprang into existence (notwithstanding the buoyant claims of science writers and pundits who routinely assure us that answers to this age old mystery are at hand). Competing theories based on surmise and wishful thinking are treated as established fact. Attempts to create artificial life have essentially gone nowhere but, ditto the confident claims.

Human consciousness. Despite steady progress in areas such as the mapping of brain circuits, measuring their activity, and pinpointing the mechanics of memory storage, consciousness remains a persistent mystery—the deepest riddle of all. 

As for the life sciences: we’ve yet to determine the basis of biological form and pattern (for instance, why fingers and toes come in threes, fours, or fives but never sevens). And as to how species diverge, or even what constitutes a species—there’s still no widespread consensus on such key topics. Many evolutionary processes are still poorly understood and subject to heated debate. 

These issues share a common thread. Namely: the “problem” of biological complexity. Problem? What problem? Thanks in part to an ever-increasing capacity to generate and process mountains of data, contemporary researchers find that the study of life is growing more complicated with each passing year—particularly at molecular scales. The latest findings of biochemists and molecular biologists reveal layered intricacies their predecessors never anticipated. Incredible as this may seem, leading biologists of the mid-1800s believed cells to be little more than shapeless, unstructured containers filled with water or slime. But even now, the ways cells interact with their neighbors, how cells coordinate their specific roles in tissues and organs, certain aspects of their most elementary properties: basic matters like these still present explanatory hurdles. The same goes for the macro level and on up the ladder of life’s vast web of interdependence. Here, too, ecologists stare down another seemingly bottomless well of multiplying complexities. Their studies frequently reveal unforeseen connections—at all levels, at all scales. Nothing in biology is as straightforward as once imagined. Nothing.

There’s no end to the mind-boggling intricacy associated with each and every aspect of the natural world. Of course, biology isn’t alone in this regard; each scientific field has its own complications and unresolved problems. And every discipline has its own way of approaching them. Physicists, for instance, face the unsettling prospect that subatomic particles may not be the ultimate material division. And whatever it is that matter comprises will most likely remain beyond experimentation (or, worse, beyond comprehension). Likewise, biologists—unable to establish the precise point where chemistry, physics, and that enigmatic spark of life converge—may never settle on a definitive foundation for their own field. This built-in ambiguity sets biology apart from most of the other physical sciences. Where does the study of life even begin? 

Analogies shed light on complicated matters, making hard things easier to grasp. For example, there’s this time-honored simile dating from the seventeenth century: Organisms are like wonderful machines. Without question, viewing living things as elaborate machines provides a clearer picture of their multipart structures and interconnected systems. Indeed, many people argue that living things are machines—literally. Others believe this undervalues the extreme degree of functional complexity that all forms of life display; after all, our most advanced machinery pales in comparison to the most primitive mud-dwelling microbe. The sophistication of things like pea pods and feathers and snail shells and ankle joints are simply taken for granted, seldom eliciting the wonder they so richly deserve. Our days are full to overflowing already and we simply can’t spare the time or energy it takes to be astonished by run of the mill miracles. Vital natural processes—a perfect example being the ceaseless, rhythmic beating of our hearts—go unnoticed in much the same way we reflexively tune out distracting noises. 

And so it is that we’re almost forced to ignore the biological version of a Great Truth—right there in front of us, all the time, just waiting to appear as a blinding flash of insight. The gist of its wordless message is this: Life’s true nature is subtle and elusive. Scientists have achieved a basic grasp of its capabilities, yes, but have only a partial awareness of life’s limitations…little insight into how biological order arises from chaos…barely an inkling of what the organism “means.” Our rudimentary conception of what life IS is clouded by faulty assumptions, preconception, and lack of imagination. As a result, the Western scientific tradition’s portrayal of life is flawed—deeply and irrevocably flawed from the bottom up.

END OF PART 1.       ©2021 Tim Forsell        7 Sep 2021