I have a weakness for the crop of evolutionary psychology and anthropology that has sprung up in recent years, and this one on the evolution of the human chimpanzee and the specific problematic baggage he brings from this evolutionary history is no exception. Of particular interest, both for content, as well as for the insight into the genesis of such book it provides, is the chapter on differential development of human societeties, that later bloomed into a full grown book of its own: Guns, Germs and Steel. Diamond writes delightfully entertaining, and his examples are fascinating. The only drawback is the bleak picture he paints for the future of this planet and our species, sounding just as correct today as it did 15 years ago, when he wrote it. The only difference being that the monster of major climate change caused by us monkeys no longer is something to be feared decades in the future, but seems to wait just around the corner. Maybe we can gang up on it, kill it and eat it. That strategy served us well in the past.

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Seit zwei Tagen steht unter dem Fenster meines Büros in Minor Hall, auf der steineren Terrassenfläche, die im Wahrnehmungsraum allenfalls durch ein dickes und langes Wurmloch mit einem Ferienort zu verbinden wäre, und also folgerichtig und hübsch Orwellianisch Minor Beach heisst, ein enormes weisses Zelt in der Landschaft. Von der Zeltdachschräge federt das nordkalifornische Sonnenlicht elegant zurück in die Luft von schräg links unten in mein Auge und sägt am roten Migränedraht, oder auch am blauen; schalten Sie nächste Woche wieder ein, wenn Sie wissen möchten, ob die Bombe explodierte.

Unter dem Zelt hervor drang heute zunächst Unterhaltungsklassik zur Erbauung der versammelten Anzugträger und -gattinnen, später dann die Unterhaltungsrede des Rektors, und schliesslich, aus ergriffenen Graduiertenkehlen, und in hersagbaren Häppchen, der Optometrische Eid. Das Zeremoniell, so rührend wie sonderbar anachronistisch in seiner mittelalterlichen Zünftigkeit, wird begleitet von sanftem Regenfall aufs Zelt, unerhört im Mai, aber es wird eben alles immer schlechter, besonders das Wetter. Ich schwör.

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Sadly, this collection of cartoons mostly shows why Science and Humour are commonly considered to be unmixable substances. A few of the jokes are actually funny, but they’re rarely the ones that actually deal with scientists, or science as such, but rather ones inspired by or loosely based on scientific ideas. A few years back, Carl Djerassi wrote several novels in a genre he calls science-in-fiction (early Science Fiction writers probably would have been horrified by the necessity for that distinction), and if I remember correctly, none of them turned out particularly funny, though he sure tried. These cartoon have the additional disadvantage of stemming from strange, past decades, and so are mainly of interest to historians. Ah, historians, don’t get me started on those. Hilarious!

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Crank science is fascinating to me, and the more elaborate the unfounded theories get, the more so. Just as a collection and overview of some of the classics of the cranks, this book is already invaluable. Above and beyond the pure review of mad scientists’ view of the world, this book raises the issue, in several places, of whether or not these cranks should be allowed to do what they do, and how the public should and should not receive them. Gardner wrote this in the late 1950s, and his perspective is clearly heavily influenced by the Velikovsky incident. Velikovsky published fairly outrageous and quite original theories on the influence of catastrophic astronomical events on world history, most notable the two near crashings of a comet that was later to become the planet Venus into historic Earth, and caused a big stir when scientists objected against Worlds in Collision having been published at all, and defenders of free speech rushed to the madman’s defense. Gardner’s position, as that of so many scientists, is unforgiving. He doesn’t want to restrict the ability of cranks to do their thing, but he doesn’t like them getting publicity when very clearly their work is not up to scientific standards. I am somewhat torn on this. I love the strange poetry and creativity in the these works, abd it would be a shame to lose these voices, even if their contributions to scientific discourse are not of the usual, incrementally explarative, kind.

The notion that an unsuspecting an uneducated public needs to be protected from misleading, sensationalist accounts that do damage to science education to me seems overly controlling and snobbish; but on the other hand, the statistics time and again prove that people do in fact believe in UFO’s, the existence of angels, the literal truth of the bible and any number of other theories at obvious odds with accepted scientific fact, and more importantly, more often than not, such beliefs will have negative practical consequences. It probably is a good idea, then, to prevent access of propagandists of these beliefs to institutions of higher education and the academic discourse, to avoid giving the public credibility they so hungrily desire. On the other hand, this shoehorning of thought into usability, fact and value leaves me somewhat uncomfortable.

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With the Tipping Point being so entertaining to read, the momentum just carried me right into Gladwell’s newer book on the importance of subconscious snap judgments for all aspects of our lives. Of course there is quite some evidence saying that even when we make seemingly rational decisions, our brains may just be bullshitting us profoundly (in Gazzanigas famous experiments on split brain patients, for example, subjects readily report completely bogus reasons for an action, because the half of their brain speaking, having no clue why the other half did something, makes up a story – without the subject being aware that he’s being conned by the gooey stuff in his head. But I digress), so the phenomenon that the resons for our decisions and actions aren’t always available to our conscious self might just be the tip of the problem that we actually come up with explanations for our actions after the fact by default, and the only reason it tends to make sense so much is that we have been around ourselves long enough to generally know what we will be doing, and have a fairly good theory of our own minds. The most important part of this book I found to be the notion that we are able to shape how our subconscious makes its decisions, and the chapter on how requiring conscious justifications messes up and changes our judgments – unless we’re experts and already know what we’re talking about. Next time somebody asks you why you like something, think twice about thinking about it – you suddenly might not like it any more.

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Friends tell me I’ve read this book several years ago and liked it, but try as I might, I can’t remember it. Upon (re?)reading it now, I have an explanation of why that might be. The general theme – social phenomena are subject to nonlinear mechanisms that mean minimal causes in the right place or time can have enormous effects – is of the variety that is so obvious once you get it, you immediately forget the person who told you. Something that obvious doesn’t have an author, or a form, it’s just an impresonal truth. The book is an entertaining and insightful read, but I can already feel the particulars fading in my mind. In a few years I’ll be ready to read it again.

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Sodbrennen kennt ja jeder, hier in den USA zumal. Etliche Regalmeter in den konkurrierenden Drogeriemarktmolochfilialen Walgreens, Long’s, Elephant Pharmacy und Walmart sind mit Antacidtabletten, -pasten, -pülverchen vollgestellt, der lustigen Rechtslage im Medikamentenwesen wegen meist mit einem Markenprodukt und der Hauskopie direkt daneben. Die Hauskopie ist von schlichtem Design, ein paar Dollar billiger als die Markenware und fordert den Käufer unweigerlich an prominenter Stelle dazu auf, die Inhaltssangaben mit der des Markenproduktes zu vergleichen. Zeigst du mir deins, zeig ich dir meins. Aber auch ohne diese Produktverdopplung herrscht eine irrwitzige Auswahl and Säurepuffern und -blockern, Kalziumkarbonatkautabletten mit Fruchtgeschmack, Wasserstoffionenpumpenhemmer. Es muss dies ein Aspekt der Freiheit sein, die die Terroristen in solch wilden Aufruhr versetzt.

Ich fühle mich in diesen Säuremittelbasen zuhause und verstanden, denn wie ich anlässlich einer traumatischen Schlauchverschluckung erfuhr, ist mein Speiseröhrenschliessmuskel zu schwach für den Job, aber leider unkündbar, und nun schwappt regelmässig die Magensäure nach oben und beisst mit kleinen Zähnen in empfindliches Gewebe. So weit, so gewöhnlich.

Oft aber geht mein Sodbrennen einher mit dumpfem Schmerz in einem fünfmarkstückgrossen Fleck an der Aussenseite meines rechten Handgelenks, und das fasziniert mich. Eine vage Forstellung von Nervenkonvergenz machte mich glauben, dass das ein ein Schmerzsignal aus meinem Getriebe ist, das übers Handgelenkkabel an den falschen Schmerzempfinder geleitet wird. Aber der Arzt, dem ich die Theorie vortrug, winkte nur abschätzig und ein bisschen verlegen ab. Quatsch. Seitdem versuche ich, Karten von dieser Nervenkonvergenz zu finden, bislang mit einer drolligen Kombination aus wenig Einsatz und wenig Erfolg. Wahlweise nähme ich auch einen Beleg dafür, dass diese Nervenverwirrung von Person zu Person verschieden ist, und es also bei Hinz ein Leberleiden signalisiert, wenn der grosse Zeh ziept, bei Kunz hingegen einen Milzdefekt.

Ich gebe die Wissenslücke hier mal zu Protokoll. Vielleicht kommt eine Staubmilbe und schliesst sie.

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To anyone following European public discourse and politics, the anti-American bias should be obvious. It is a curious fact of human psychology that an argument based on correct facts can still be wrong, and this complication afflicts this book as well. There is no way to defend the current American administration against the criticisms leveled against it, nor is there a way to dispel the other prominent myths about American held in Europe, namely that its capitalist forces are out of control and that it’s wealth is based on exploitation. But when these criticism are voiced by powers that have no inherent interest in solving the underlying problems, but rather are the competition. As much as I would have liked to think of the European protest against the Iraq war as an outpouring of compassion, and to view the piles of Michael Moore’s books in german bookstores as the proof of genuine interest in opposing ruling power they would have been in the US, I know both are at least to a good degree expressions of less pure motives. Reading this book made me question my own approach in my parallel blog, where I collect little stories that seem to me to reflect tendencies of isolation and aggressive competition, somehow equating that with my experience here – as though I weren’t appalled by the cold and unfriendly behaviour of many Germans, too, every time I visit.

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Some names have a positive aura for reasons we have forgotten since we first encountered them. Maybe it was something we read, someone talking about the person, or quoting them in an interesting context. So it was with me and Medawar, and I’m very happy I bought the book at the yard sale I found it at. Medawar treats his often complex subjects with amazing clarity and levity, yet never compromises in terms of accuracy, and the problems he writes about are as unsolved today as they were thirty years ago. How do we balance the benefits of science with its dangers, to fulfill the inherent promise of progress rather than invoking an army of brooms that will sweep us away? Medawar doesn’t have answers, of course, but he does ask the right questions, and that is the bigger achievement anyway.

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I was unable to find any image of the cover of this book online – which tells you something about it’s age. The Social Brain came out in the 80s, and it proposed, based in Gazzaniga’s own groundbreaking research on split brain patients, that the brain was a combined structure of separate and somewhat independent modules, and that the unfied mental life we seem to have is a constructed illusion rather than a controlling entity. The descriptions of the experiments are as amazing today as they must have been when they were first done, the speculative general part seems to vague to be either true or false, and the final chapter, in which Gazzaniga reverently interviews himself, instead of just saying what he wants to say, for no good reason, is slightly embarrasing.

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