The Remarkable Cicadas in a Remarkable Video

The soil in our town recently grew warm enough for the cicadas to emerge. I don’t think we’ve seen any around here since 1996. This bunch has been living underground for 17 years.

We find them (or the outer skeletons they’ve left behind) every morning, mostly on tree trunks, but also on our garage door, our front steps and even our car tires. They’re looking for a temporary home in a hospitable tree. If they find a safe place to rest and mature, they’ll make an amazing amount of noise and attempt to mate. The females who survive will give birth to a new generation. In 3 weeks or so, all of the adults will die.

A filmmaker named Daniel Orr is trying to finish an hour-long documentary about these remarkable animals. He’s using Kickstarter to raise money. If you visit the site below, you can watch 7 minutes of his film. One viewer (no fan of the cicadas, she thought they were really creepy the last time she saw them, when she was 8) called this short video “terrifying, beautiful, disgusting and sad”.

It seems irrational to feel sorry for these insects. Or to feel any other strong emotion about them. Yet it’s hard not to feel something when you watch Mr. Orr’s video. Maybe we imagine ourselves waiting such a long time and then coming into the light.

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/motionkicker/return-of-the-cicadas

P.S. — This morning, the ones who made it into the trees are proclaiming their presence to the world!

Pope Francis Didn’t Mean That Thing About Atheists

There was a story in the news a few days ago suggesting that Pope Francis is o.k. with atheists, so long as they’re good people. Some interpreted the Pope’s statement as meaning that atheists can even go to heaven if they’re sufficiently upstanding, which sounds like the idea that “good works” are good enough. An article from the Religion News Service said that the Pope’s remarks “may prompt a theological debate about the nature of salvation”.

Here’s what the Pope actually said:

“The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the Blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone! ‘Father, the atheists?’ Even the atheists. Everyone! And this Blood makes us children of God of the first class! We are created children in the likeness of God and the Blood of Christ has redeemed us all! And we all have a duty to do good. And this commandment for everyone to do good, I think, is a beautiful path towards peace. If we, each doing our own part, if we do good to others, if we meet there, doing good, and we go slowly, gently, little by little, we will make that culture of encounter: we need that so much. We must meet one another doing good. ‘But I don’t believe, Father, I am an atheist!’ But do good: we will meet one another there.”

Unfortunately for any of us atheists or agnostics making plans for the afterlife, the “there” where we can meet the Pope probably won’t be heaven.

A Vatican spokesman, and other commentators, have explained that, in the view of the Catholic Church, all humanity was redeemed by Jesus’s sacrifice, even the atheists. This means that it is possible for everyone to be saved. Nobody is automatically ruled out (for example, by being born Hindu or by having been an atheist). This is traditional church doctrine.

However, in order to get to heaven, you have to meet one of two requirements:

(1) Be a good Catholic; or

(2) Be a good person who never had the opportunity to be a good Catholic, like a Kalahari Bushman who never heard about the gospel.

Anybody who had the opportunity to be a good Catholic but decided not to bother is out of luck:

171. What is the meaning of the affirmation “Outside the Church there is no salvation”? This means that all salvation comes from Christ, the Head, through the Church which is his body. Hence they cannot be saved who, knowing the Church as founded by Christ and necessary for salvation, would refuse to enter her or remain in her. At the same time, thanks to Christ and to his Church, those who through no fault of their own do not know the Gospel of Christ and his Church but sincerely seek God and, moved by grace, try to do his will as it is known through the dictates of conscience can attain eternal salvation. (Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church)

So even a full-fledged non-believer, somebody who has consciously rejected belief in God and the Catholic Church, has been redeemed, but he or she has to become a good Catholic in order to be saved. Meanwhile, the Pope, to his credit, believes that we can all work together, even us non-believers, to make the world a better place.

I’m glad that’s cleared up.

__________________________________________________________

One of the original news stories:

http://www.religionnews.com/2013/05/22/pope-francis-god-redeemed-everyone

What the Pope said:

http://en.radiovaticana.va/news/2013/05/22/pope_at_mass

The official explanation:

http://www.zenit.org/en/articles/explanatory-note-on-the-meaning-of-salvation-may-22

Those Crazy, Mixed Up Photons

On the website of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, a physicist recently wrote:

Suppose you have a quantum particle of light, or photon. It can be polarized so that it wriggles either vertically or horizontally. The quantum realm is … hazed over with unavoidable uncertainty, and thanks to such quantum uncertainty, a photon can … be polarized vertically and horizontally at the same time. If you then measure the photon, however, you will find it either horizontally polarized or vertically polarized, as the two-ways-at-once state randomly ‘collapses’ one way or the other.

This two-ways-at-once state is called “superposition”. The idea is that something can be in more than one state (or “position”) at one time, i.e. a super-position.

However, saying that a photon can be polarized vertically and horizontally at the same time, or that it can be in a “two-ways-at-once” state, looks extremely suspicious. It’s hard to know what such a statement means, if anything. After all, language is based on logic (it wouldn’t work otherwise) and logic is based on the law of contradiction: proposition P cannot be both true and false, assuming that P has a single, precise meaning.

The proposition that photon p is polarized vertically at time t has a single, precise meaning. So does the proposition that photon p is polarized horizontally at time t. Yet these statements certainly look contradictory. It looks as if we have to give up the law of contradiction in order to accept them both.

To avoid the contradiction, however, it might be preferable to say that a photon can be in an indeterminate state, in which its polarization is neither vertical nor horizontal. It’s potentially in either state, but it’s not in either one until its state is measured (or otherwise affected), at which point the photon randomly ends up in one state or the other.

Viewed in probabilistic terms, the fate of Schrödinger’s cat doesn’t seem to be a problem (to me anyway). It was alive when it was put in the box and presumably remained alive unless it was poisoned as the result of a random sub-atomic event. We don’t have to say that the cat is now both dead and alive (or in some twilight state). It’s just a cat that may have died and there is a certain probability that it did.

But then there is the famous double-split experiment. This experiment shows that photons don’t behave like cats (or dogs) or, in the philosopher J. L. Austin’s phrase, “medium-sized dry goods”. A single photon travels through two slits and creates a wave-pattern on the other side, even though common sense tells us that the photon can only travel through one slit or the other. The bizarre but reasonable conclusion is that the photon actually takes every possible path through the two openings, not just in theory, but in fact.

Fortunately, there isn’t any contradiction in saying that the photon goes through slit 1 and slit 2 at the same time, since saying that it goes through slit 2 doesn’t conflict with saying that it also goes through slit 1. In similar fashion, photons can be polarized horizontally and vertically at the same time, because that’s the kind of thing that can happen to the crazy little bastards (i.e. sub-atomic particles).

We are used to saying things like “a person can’t be in two places at the same time” (many episodes of Law and Order are based on that premise). Logic tells us that if the number 5 is odd, it can’t be even. Logic and experience tell us that if Miss Scarlet was in the billiard room, she wasn’t in the conservatory. That’s how numbers and people work. Photons don’t work that way. It’s extremely strange, but not incomprehensible and not contradictory.

http://news.sciencemag.org/sciencenow/2013/05/physicists-create-quantum-link-b.html

Daniel Deronda by George Eliot

Middlemarch is a great novel. Daniel Deronda isn’t.

I read Daniel Deronda because I enjoyed Middlemarch so much. This seemed like a good idea for a while, because the early chapters of Daniel Deronda focus on Gwendolen Harleth. She is a self-centered, lively young woman with a gift for repartee and a strong desire to be independent. Unfortunately, the focus eventually moves to the title character, a serious young gentleman who never knew his parents and is unsure of his life’s purpose.

Gwendolen isn’t a saint. Daniel is. He rescues a saintly Jewish woman named Mirah, whose saintly brother is a scholar and passionate Zionist. Gwendolen marries an unpleasant, controlling aristocrat, to her regret. In her misery, she seeks advice from Daniel and falls in love with him. But Daniel has fallen in love with Mirah. 

Daniel, with the help of Mirah’s brother, does find his life’s purpose. But I didn’t care about Daniel, Mirah or her brother. I was rooting for Gwendolen.

The novel is saved somewhat by Eliot’s beautiful language and her frequent commentary. For example:

And Gwendolen? She was thinking of Deronda much more than he was thinking of her — often wondering what were his ideas ‘about things’, and how his life was occupied. 

But … it was as far from Gwendolen’s conception that Deronda’s life could be determined by the historical destiny of the Jews, as that he could rise into the air on a brazen horse, and so vanish from her horizon in the form of a twinkling star.

… it was inevitable that she should imagine a larger place for herself in his thoughts than she actually possessed.

They must be rather old and wise persons who are not apt to see their own anxiety or elation about themselves reflected in other minds.

But it probably would have been better to read Middlemarch again.

Mowing the Lawn and the Moral Equivalent of War

Gardening has a genteel image, especially among people who don’t garden. I avoid gardening whenever possible, since it involves dirt, sweat, insect bites and bending over.

There are gardening activities that I find hard to avoid, however: pulling weeds, cutting hedges and mowing the lawn. Mainly mowing the lawn. Most of our neighbors are in an unspoken competition to have lawns that look like putting greens. Our next door neighbor mows his lawn every day or two. He’s definitely got a nice-looking lawn. Very flat and very green.

As I was mowing the lawn today, amid the sunshine and high humidity (trying to avoid a confrontation with the lawn police), it occurred to me that cutting the grass is a lot like warfare. The plants, mostly grass, but various other forms of plant life too (especially on our lawn), are trying to claim territory, either horizontally or vertically. We grant them the right to spread out horizontally, for the most part, but draw the line some inches above the ground. Cross that line and you will be mowed down, just like World War I soldiers poking their heads up out of their trenches or scrambling across no man’s land. 

We don’t use bullets in this war. We use blades. Most of us have made the transition to mechanized warfare (I’ve got an aging red Toro). Those of us who don’t want to get our hands dirty hire mercenaries (many from other countries). Some of us use chemical weapons. There is even a nuclear option (concrete, sand, ivy, etc.).

It’s true that when we mow the lawn, we aren’t trying to kill our grass — we just want to limit its growth (although we don’t mind killing interlopers like dandelions). We love our grass. We want it to prosper. Some of us even nurture it. So the war metaphor only goes so far.

But in the heat of battle, marching along, cutting the tops off thousands of living things, remembering past battles, knowing that this force of nature won’t give up, it will counterattack again and again, this labor certainly feels like the “Moral Equivalent of War”.

To quote William James from his essay of that name, written in 1906:

“If now — and this is my idea — there were, instead of military conscription, a conscription of the whole youthful population to form for a certain number of years a part of the army enlisted against Nature, the injustice would tend to be evened out, and numerous other goods to the commonwealth would remain blind as the luxurious classes now are blind, to man’s relations to the globe he lives on, and to the permanently sour and hard foundations of his higher life. To coal and iron mines, to freight trains, to fishing fleets in December, to dishwashing, clotheswashing, and windowwashing, to road-building and tunnel-making, to foundries and stoke-holes, and to the frames of skyscrapers, would our gilded youths be drafted off, according to their choice, to get the childishness knocked out of them, and to come back into society with healthier sympathies and soberer ideas. They would have paid their blood-tax, done their own part in the immemorial human warfare against nature; they would tread the earth more proudly, the women [!] would value them more highly, they would be better fathers [!] and teachers of the following generation.”

And lawns would be quite neat.

“The Moral Equivalent of War”