Showing posts with label humankind. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humankind. Show all posts

Sunday, June 3, 2018

The Emergence of the Superorganism: Susan Kucera's Movie "Living in The Future's Past"




Imagine you are an ant. All you have seen in your life are only other ants, touching their antennas and moving on. Then, one day, the Ant God, who is benevolent and merciful, lifts you up in the air and shows you the world from there. And, miracle, you see the anthill for the first time. You see the teeming, organized, complex, superorganism which you never suspected to exist but of which have been a single cell for all your life.

That would be quite an experience for an ant and we, humans, might be subjected to something similar: the sudden, unexpected, and amazing perception of the human superorganism - a planetary-scale creature, not unlike a giant anthill, engaged in changing the world.

Physicists enjoy talking about "emergent phenomena," that is about entities appearing as the result of the interaction of smaller and simpler elements. An anthill is a good example: a single ant is not an anthill and knows nothing about anthills, but the behavior of many ants creates the anthill.

Humans can do something similar, it is an emergent characteristic which appeared only in recent times in the human evolutionary history. Collecting first into bands, then villages, then cities, then states, now humans form a single, giant creature - the superorganism - which is literally devouring the planet to keep itself growing. In a sense, it is like a science fiction novel, but it is real: you can see it at work - one good place to get a feeling of its presence is in Susan Kucera's movie "Living in the Future's Past."

The concept of a human superorganism is not new - its origins may go back to the work of Gustave Le Bon, "The Psychology of the Crowds" (1895). The idea of a single, worldwide human anthill is relatively recent, but it is clearly appearing in the human memesphere. Gaia Vince gave the name of "Homni" to it, and you can find the concept scattered over a number of sites and discussions (although often mixed with that of the human microbiome, a different emergent phenomenon).

The superorganism is explicitly mentioned by Nate Hagens in his several appearances in the movie, but it is present all over it. It is one of the threads, perhaps the main one of the whole story. The movie itself is an emergent phenomenon, it is amazing how Susan could weave together many different and complicated concepts, told by different people who are not speaking to each other, into a coherent whole. And out of this whole, a fundamental concept "emerges:"  humans have taken control of the planet, but they lost control of the superorganism.

So, once you discover that you are surrounded by this giant creature - you are actually part of it - what is to be done? This is the classic question asked in all the discussions on how to "save the environment." Turn off the lights when you leave home, bicycle when you can, eat less meat, that kind of stuff. All that, of course, will have no effect on a planetary-size monster devouring you and everything else.

But is the superorganism evil? If so, what should be done about it? A possible suggestion could be to break it down into smaller parts which could do less damage to the planet. But that would probably change little to the situation. Or, we could try to tame the superorganism, turning it into something benevolent and merciful. Is it possible? Let's say that it may not be impossible. And this seems to be the gist of the movie when, at the end, we hear Jeff Bridges citing Teilhard de Chardin as

Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides, and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire. (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin)

And that makes perfect sense: if the superorganism can be tamed and educated, it can only be done by means of love.


 

Susan Kucera speaks at the presentation of "Living in the Future's Past" in Florence on May 31, 2018. In the picture, you see also Stefano Dominici (University of Florence) and Gloria Germani (Odeon Cinema)

Below, Nate Hagens speaks about the Superorganism

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Deep Future: the ultimate destiny of humankind




In the 1950s, we knew what the future would be: an age of prosperity and unprecedented wonders. Energy too cheap to meter, flying cars, vacations on the moon, and the conquest of space. Then, space heroes would return to Earth to relax on the edge of their swimming pool while the robot-butler would bring them their margaritas. To be sure, the future had a dark side: that of the nuclear holocaust. But it was still a future where human ingenuity would trump everything else. 

The future today is completely different. The way we see the destiny of humankind is inextricably linked to the great "pulse" of carbon burning that has been ongoing for a couple of centuries and which is now reaching its peak. Fossil carbon has taken us to where we are now, creating the prosperity of our industrial civilization. But fossil fuels are rapidly running out and that creates a number of consequences; one is the impossibility of running an industrial society without abundant and cheap energy, the other is global warming which is transforming the earth into a completely new planet. These effects will shape the future of humankind in ways that can't be exactly predicted, but that we can imagine in the form of "scenarios" - futures that could happen. So, here are some possible futures of humankind, arranged from the least exciting one (near term extinction) to highly exciting ones, involving expansion over the whole galaxy.



1. Extinction.

Extinction is a simple scenario to describe: humankind goes extinct and that's it. The time scale of extinction may be millennia, centuries or, perhaps, just decades (in the last case, it may go under the name of "Near Term Extinction," a term popularized by Guy McPherson). In any case, extinction would be very rapid in comparison to the time span of existence of homo sapiens, at least two hundred thousand years.

Extinction is a perfectly possible scenario if we assume the playing out of some of the most dire effects of the human impact on the ecosphere, in particular the emissions of greenhouse gases. The great "methane burp" that could result from the thawing of the Earth's permafrost could raise temperatures up to 6-8 degrees C and even more in times of the order of a few centuries or even much faster. In its extreme version, global warming could evolve into the "Venus catastrophe", where the whole biosphere could be sterilized by extremely high temperatures. To be sure, this scenario seems to be ruled out by the results of the current climate models, but we don't need the Venus catastrophe to unbalance the ecosystem to such a degree that the resources humans need in order to survive would be destroyed. At that point, the outcome could be only one: extinction. 

This is a scenario that leaves little to discuss about the destiny of humankind. But, assuming that the biosphere is not completely destroyed, could the planet recover afterward? Perhaps it could, but not necessarily. Nowadays, the Earth is perilously close to the inner edge of the habitable zone in the Solar system and it is being pushed out of it by the gradual increase of solar radiation. It is a very slow process by human standards, but it is estimated that vertebrates have no more than some 100-150 million years to go before the Earth becomes too hot for them to survive. A major disaster such as the one we are contemplating in this scenario could kick the Earth out of the vertebrate habitable zone. In this case, the Earth's biosphere might revert to a world of unicellular creatures such as it was during the Archean or the Proterozoic eons. In such case, it is possible, and perhaps likely, that vertebrates would never re-evolve and that the planet would remain dominated by unicellular life forms until it gets sterilized by further increases in solar radiation, about one billion years from now.

But let's assume that the ecosystem can recover without major losses of phyla. In times of the order of hundreds of thousands of years, the excess CO2 in the atmosphere would be removed and transformed into solid carbonates. That would slowly cool down the planet and the ecosystem would gradually recover its former productivity. At that point, vertebrates could become again abundant and the Earth would look very much like it looked millions of years ago, when the ancestors of human beings didn't seem to be destined to the great explosion of numbers that was to take place with the Anthropocene.

Is there a chance that the Earth would evolve again a species of sentient beings? It is not impossible. If some species of primates could survive the great carbon pulse, they might re-develop tool making abilities and, in time, human-like intelligence. That would take time, considering that it took some 50 million years to arrive to homo sapiens from the earliest primates, but it would still be possible within the remaining lifetime of the biosphere for vertebrates. If all primates go extinct, then the task becomes more difficult considering that it took more than 400 million years for primates to appear after the evolution of vertebrates. But, again, it would not be impossible and, anyway, perhaps sentient beings don't need to be primates. So, there might be a second (and probably last) chance for intelligent creatures to do better than we did. Good luck to them!


2. The Olduvai Scenario. 

The "Return to Olduvai" was proposed by Richard Duncan in 1996 to describe the effect of the gradual depletion of fossil fuels; taking the name "Olduvai" from the name of a region in Tanzania, Africa, where our remote ancestors lived. The idea is that, without fossil fuels, humans would lose their principal source of energy and would be forced to return to their oldest survival lifestyle: hunting and gathering.

The Olduvai scenario could play out as the result of a combination of factors. First of all, fossil fuels would gradually become so expensive to make an industrial economy impossible. In parallel, global warming would raise temperatures so much that tropical and temperate latitudes would become impossible to inhabit year round for human beings. At this point, humans would be forced to retreat to extreme northern and southern regions, where it is not obvious that agriculture is possible. As we move away from the equator, a strong limiting factor is the low level of solar irradiation. Crops can grow nicely at high latitudes, but the problem is the slow rate of the reforming of fertile soil and the consequent erosion. It is a problem already evident today in regions such as in Iceland and Greenland and which might make agriculture impossible to maintain for long times.

So, humans living in high latitude regions could find that the best survival strategy for them is to adopt a lifestyle similar to that of modern Inuit, even though at much higher temperatures. They would live mainly by fishing and hunting marine mammals in the warm season - retreating in their shelters during the long polar night. In the Northern Hemisphere, this lifestyle would be possible in the ring of land around the North Pole, part of Eurasia and of the American Continent. In the Southern Hemisphere, it would mean the tip of the South American continent, Tierra Del Fuego, and perhaps an ice-free Antarctica, where humans could live for the first time in their history.

Modern humans have been hunters and gatherers for at least two hundred thousand years. Their hominid ancestors have been using this strategy for a couple of million years, at least. So, hunting and gathering is a stable and successful way of living that humans could adopt for a long time, at least as long as the planetary ecosystem would be able to maintain a sufficient biological productivity. In time, the ecosystem could stabilize and return the planet to the conditions of the past ten million years or so. In this case, the high latitude regions would probably freeze again and become covered by ice. Humans could then move back to lower latitudes. At this point, they would probably rediscover agriculture and restart with agricultural civilizations, as they had done tens or hundreds of thousands of years before. And so, we move to the next scenario; the return to agriculture. 


3. The return to agriculture.

Suppose that we run out of cheap fossil fuels, that is, fuels as cheap enough to sustain an industrial society. And suppose that we haven't used the energy we had - while we had it - to build up an alternative. Then, we will be forced to return to the world as it was before we started burning fossil fuels: an economy wholly based on biological resources; that is on agriculture.

This is a straightforward scenario that doesn't imply special events other than assuming that the effects of climate change would not be so drastic and ruinous as some scenarios describe them. Not that the transition won't be traumatic for humans. The world without fossil fuels and without alternatives to them won't be able to support, not even remotely, the same population that the fossil-powered agriculture had supported. And it is not just the lack of fossil fuels that will reduce agricultural productivity, it is the fact that centuries of intensive agriculture have destroyed a large fraction of the fertile soil that had created the human civilization. That would necessarily bring a drastic reduction in human population. In such a scenario, "traumatic" is surely an understatement. But humankind would survive.
 
In this farming future, there would hardly be a chance for a new industrial revolution. The fossil fuels that created the present one will be gone and will need millions of years to reform, if they ever will. Metal ores would also be scarce, although our farming descendants would do well by scavenging the ruins of our cities for metals. They would have plenty of iron and copper and they could even use aluminum for their cooking pans by melting down the zillions of beverage cans that we left behind. But their technological level would be severely limited by the lack of fuels: they would have only wood charcoal for their metallurgy. So, our descendants could still work iron and they could still kill each other with swords and spears (and, maybe, even with occasional muskets and cannons). But we know of no society in the past that could develop an industrial revolution without a cheap and abundant source of energy.

Curiously, however, there is a possibility for a new burst of industrialization in this remote future. It would be the result of mining Antarctica and, in minor measure, Greenland and other high latitude northern regions. Because of the ice cover, so far these regions have been scarcely exploited for minerals (or not at all, in the case of Antarctica). But the great carbon pulse could heat the planet enough that the world's glaciers would melt completely and open up these lands to mining. In this case, our ancestors could have a second (and likely last) chance to develop a new coal based industrial revolution. That would bring back everything to square one: with the new industrial society threatened by the deadly combination of depletion and climate change. Would our descendants be able to do better than us? Considering that they are - indeed - our descendants, probably not. Hence, this second cycle of industrialization might truly be the last one on the planet.

Apart from Antarctic coal, our descendants could remain farmers for a long, long time. It is said that agricultural societies of the past could be described as "peasants ruled by brigands", but this is an over-simplification for an integrated social structure where different layers perform highly specialized tasks: peasants, warriors, priests, artisans, and more. In time, agricultural societies could evolve converging to the social structure typical of other species which practice agriculture: mainly ants and termites. These species are "eusocial" (or "ultrasocial", according to some definitions) and practice extreme specialization, for instance with "queens" taking care of reproduction, while the other members of society are sterile female workers and warriors. Could future human agricultural society become something similar? Why not? At least one other species of mammals has developed full eusociality (the naked mole rat).

Eusocial species are highly resilient and tend to dominate the ecosystem, as ants and termites do and have been successfully doing for at least 50 million years. In principle, eusocial humans could also maintain their dominance of the ecosystem and continue in this role for tens or hundreds of millions of years, until they gradually disappear in a remote future as the earth becomes too hot for vertebrates to survive. If that happens, they would have been the most successful vertebrate species of earth's history; a species that even briefly dreamed of conquering space.



4. The great metabolic revolution

In more than four billion years of existence, the Earth never stood still. Powerful forces have shaped it in a continuous series of revolutions which have seen the development of more and more complex life forms, increasingly able to exploit the thermodynamic gradient created by sunlight. During this long time span, we have seen several metabolic revolutions; of which two have been the most important ones. The first was photosynthesis, some 4 billion years ago. The second is the aerobic metabolism, about 2.5 billion years ago. It is the latter revolution which, eventually, generated vertebrates and us.

Today, we seem to have reached an impasse in this ever increasing growth of biological complexity. Actually, we may be heading for an inversion of tendency created by long term changes of the ecosphere. The planetary thermostat which stabilizes the Earth's temperature works by regulating the concentration of CO2 in the atmosphere. But with the gradually increasing solar radiation, these concentrations are already near the lower limits necessary for photosynthesis. So, the present ecosystem is in a no-win situation: in the long run, either it will be destroyed by the lack of CO2 or by high temperatures. So, in order for a complex ecosystem to survive, we need a truly drastic metabolic revolution. Organic photosynthesis has reached its limits: we need to move to a completely different kind of substrates.

What is in photosynthesis, after all? It is a way to transform solar energy into excited electrons and use them to create chemical compounds which can give back this energy on demand. The efficiency of photosynthesis in this process is reported to arrive to about 13% in ideal conditions - in practice it is of the order of 8%. Note also that plants can't function as photosynthetic machines outside a narrow range of temperatures and without of nutrients and chemicals which are not always available.

So, if we want another metabolic revolution, we need something that can be both more efficient and less demanding in terms of environmental conditions. A possibility is the photovoltaic (PV) cell. The efficiency of a modern silicon PV cell can be higher than 20% in creating excited electrons. By themselves, the cells do not store energy, but can be coupled to energy storage devices and used to power a variety of processes and reactions for an overall efficiency that is comparable (and arguably higher) to that of photosynthesis. Silicon PV cells function using abundant elements: mainly silicon and aluminum, plus traces of nitrogen, boron, an phosphorous. The present generation uses also silver, but that's not a crucial. But the great advantage of "silicon photosynthesis" is that solid state PV cells do not need water or gaseous oxygen, and can operate in freezing temperatures or at high temperatures, up to a few hundred degrees centigrade. The "habitable zone" for PV cells is not a narrow shell around the sun: it spans a huge volume that includes all the major planets and probably extends even closer and farther from the sun. The quantity of solar energy that can be gathered in this volume is incredibly larger than the tiny amount intercepted by the Earth.

Of course, solid state PV devices are not normally considered the photosynthetic part of an ecosystem. They enjoy the name of "cells"; but unlike biological cells they don't reproduce themselves. But PV cells delegate their reproduction to specialized entities; cell factories, just like worker ants delegate their reproduction to specialized entities: queen ants. So, it is all part of a new ecosystem that is emerging; one which starts from the beginning as eusocial.

We know that complex systems become more complex the more energy flows through them. If the solid state ecosystem turns out to be more effective than the biological one, then the perspectives are mind boggling even if we limit our horizon to the surface of the Earth. Of course, it is hard for us to imagine the consequences of such a revolution (think of how difficult it would be for a protist of the Proterozoic age to imagine the advent of vertebrates). What we can see is that such a system is born connected at the planetary scale. The rapid development of the internet is giving us a taste of this new situation of extended interconnectedness. From our viewpoint of human beings, it is an unpleasant loss of privacy. On the other hand, ants in an anthill don't enjoy much privacy. It is, again, one of the characteristics of eusociality: you pay the advantages of efficiency with a loss of individuality. But we can hardly say more than that: if the new system is to be born, it will. What it will do, it is impossible to say, but it can - theoretically - expand to the whole solar system and survive for the whole remaining lifespan of the Sun, about 5 billion years - and even more.

In a way, it would be the ultimate triumph for human beings who would have engineered the birth of a new ecosystem encompassing the whole solar system and perhaps over the whole Galaxy. Would they still exist in this new ecosystem? If so, which role could they play? And, if not, will they be remembered with gratitude? (Note, however, that we don't feel particularly indebted to our one-celled ancestors).


5. Where are we going, anyway?

All civilizations of the past have declined and collapsed. But collapse is nothing more than rapid change and, as long as the sun shines, the ecosystem has at least a chance to move to higher levels of complexity. The future that we can dimly see today is rich in possibilities. Billions of years ago, Mars - and possibly also Venus - had a chance to develop an organic ecosphere. But in both cases the time available was too short and soon both planets left the habitable zone and were sterilized. The Earth has had a much longer time, billions of years more to develop the ecosystem we know today. But the Earth never stood still and it is not standing still: change is accelerating to speeds never seen before in history. We may go down to a sterile planet or move on to a new system of unbelievable complexity. It is the ultimate challenge for humankind; one that we cannot avoid to face.











Saturday, February 4, 2012

What is a Smart Species Like Us Doing in a Predicament Like This?

This post by George Mobus, published on "Question Everything", goes to the heart of the problem; correctly defined as "predicament". We are simply not equipped to cope with the complexity we have created. Now, it seems that we can do little but watch the banquet of consequences.

Too Smart for Our Own Good by Craig Dilworth


Reviewed by George Mobus


A Paradox


Many years ago I believed, as do most people today, that intelligence was the key to solving all of mankind's problems (read: innovation, assumed by technocornucopians to overcome all problems). I spent no small amount of my life pursuing understanding of what intelligence is, and how the brain produces the abilities to solve complex problems. My childhood was spent watching the unfolding explosion in science and technology that culminated in, for example, the landing of humans on the moon. I grew up knowing there were these wondrous electronic brains called computers. Later at a still impressionable age, once the size and prices of computers came down, I got my chance to play with them. I fell instantly in love with a machine that I could program to rapidly solve problems that would have taken me days to accomplish. And I came across the works of Alan Turing regarding the idea that a computing device might be able to emulate human intelligence, dubbed “Artificial Intelligence” (AI). The “Turing Test” posited that we should accord intelligence to machines if in a blind conversation with a real human, the latter could not detect that s/he was talking to a machine. I set out to see how such a wonder might be accomplished.

Many years later I managed to earn a PhD in computer science by programming a computer to emulate not human intelligence, but the intelligence of a neuron with its adaptive synaptic connections. These, I assembled into a computational model of a snail brain, an admittedly moronic one, and showed how such a brain could control behavior and, more importantly, emulate animal-like (biomimic) learning through Pavlovian-style conditioning. Putting this brain into a computer controlling a small Braitenberg robot, I could show how the brain learned features of its experienced environment and adjusted its behavior to conform to the stimuli of that environment (run from pain-causing stimuli and approach rewarding stimuli). That academic exercise started me digging deeper into how biological neural networks in real brains work. I read every book I could get ahold of and many journal articles on various aspects of neuroscience trying to understand how it worked. The obvious goal of AI was to produce human-like intelligence in a machine. The strong version of this program even contemplated producing a conscious machine (e.g. HAL 9000 in A Space Odyssey). The field of AI has evolved from the earliest days and it has produced some useful computational products. And even though Deep Blue (IBM) beat world chess master Garry Kasporov and Watson (also IBM) beat the all-time Jeopardy champs at that game, the fact is that computers still only simulate some aspects of intelligence, and then only in limited expertise domains.

Throughout the evolution of the field, the idea of a machine intelligence spawned considerable interest among psychologists, neurobiologists, and philosophers. Debates about just what intelligence was in the first place were generated each time AI seemed to make progress. Perhaps one of the most important contributions of the field was to show just how different real brains were from the way computers process data. And with each new accomplishment of computers, trying to master tasks that had previously been thought to require intelligence, it became clearer that the human kind of intelligence was far more complex and nuanced than our earlier models accounted for. My own claim that my robot emulated a “moronic” snail might have been valid for a very low level of intelligence, but it only served to underscore how far our computational approaches were from the real thing as far as human-level intelligence.

In any case my initial forays into AI via trying to simulate learning phenomena in neuron-like structures got me hooked on the notion of understanding the real deal. Both psychology and neurobiology had made such important strides toward grasping the nature of human intelligence and consciousness that I essentially ceased worrying about AI and turned my attentions more fully to the pursuit of real human intelligence as an object of study.

As much as has been elucidated, especially over the last few decades, about human intelligence, most of the world still holds that intelligence is our greatest mental achievement. Coupled with its twin mental capacity for creativity, intelligence is seen as the epitome of cognition; a genius is one who has ample portions of both compared with ordinary humans. The human brain is held to provide cleverness in solving complex problems. We often equate intelligence with rational thinking (e.g. deductive logic) and hold accomplishments in mathematics or science as evidence that we are an incredibly smart species. The mere fact of the existence of our technological prowes proves that we are smarter than any mere ape.

But there is a fly in the ointment of this palliative thought. If you try to objectively account for the state of the world today as the result of our being so smart you have to ask a very important question: If we are so smart, why do we humans find ourselves in such a terrible predicament today? Our species is facing a constellation of extraordinary and complex problems for which no one can suggest feasible solutions (see below). The irony is that these problems exist because our cleverness, our being so smart, created them. Our activities, clever as we have thought them to be, are the causes of the problems, which, collectively, threaten the very existence of humanity! This seems a paradox. We were smart enough to create the problems, but we're not smart enough to fix them. My own conclusion was that maybe smartness wasn't enough. Maybe something even more important to cognition had been missing that allowed this predicament to develop. That has been the thought that has been motivating my own search for an answer.

Craig Dilworth, Reader in Theoretical Philosophy at Uppsala University in Sweden, has asked this same question from a slightly different perspective, but comes to a similar conclusion regarding the role of intelligence in creating the predicament. In Too Smart for Our Own Good Dilworth masterfully pieces together the story of how humans, being so clever, but still motivated by our animal instincts and drives, have made a real mess of things. Put simply, he concludes that the evolutionary experiment called Homo sapiens is intrinsically unsustainable. He builds the evidence carefully and skillfully, though I have a few concerns regarding some possibly nitpicking details (to be discussed later). His arguments are both complete and consistent with observed reality. And he pulls no punches.

The Predicament and Proximal Causes


A good deal of Dilworth's book deals with the evolution of the current human species and, in particular, the residual components of human behavior inherited from our animal predecessors. In short, he elucidates the various instinctive drives that underlay all human activities and that demonstrate just how much of a biological creature humans really are. He carefully derives a set of principles from physics, chemistry, and biology that explain the evolutionary trajectory that leads quite naturally to clever apes. And then he claims that a threshold was passed. Along the line of genera Australopithecus and Homo cleverness produced behaviors that no previous animals had been able to perform, at least to the extent these clever apes were able to. In particular early humans (the term covering several species) learned to control fire, to become more efficient hunters and gatherers with tools that they manufactured, to protect themselves from the climate vagaries with manufactured shelters and clothing. That capability to invent and construct put them in a new biological relation with the rest of the biophysical world. It set them going on what Dilworth describes as the “vicious circle.” Humans can extract resources, both non-renewable and renewable, from the environment at a growing rate, both per capita and as the population grows, in absolute terms. We also consume these resources after turning them into usable forms, like clothing. Our consumption, plus the ravages of entropy, means that we are producing waste products at increasing rates in the same dynamical framework as the extraction rates. And we can't help ourselves. We are driven by biological mandates to consume as individuals and to procreate.

The part about us not being able to help ourselves is really the distal, root cause of all of our misdeeds and subsequent problems. More proximal to our current conundrum is a set of immediate causes and their consequences.

The global-scale threats are legion. Here is just a partial list of some of the more threatening problems, the human role in causing them, and their possible consequences. Any one of these could be incredibly troubling for mankind, but taken together, because they are all interrelated and feeding upon one another, I am convinced, as are a growing number of scientists, they spell certain disaster.

Population Overshoot

In all but a handful of cultures, and those are generally hunter-gatherer societies, and certainly among the so-called civilizations throughout history, the general sentiment of: “Be fruitful and multiply,” seems to have prevailed. Humans, like many animals, have a few, albeit weak, built-in mechanisms for checking the size of populations relative to the carrying capacity of the local environment. Many cultures have practiced various forms of population control and some still do today with varying degrees of success. These practices may be generally seen as part of the culture and have only more recently been seen as coming from some underlying biological drives. Some of these practices are considered barbaric and immoral to civilized sentiments. But, when they work they seem to work well.

Dilworth argues, however, that these internal checks are easily subverted by the more expansive driving biological instincts when the population perceives that 1) the environment can support more bodies, and 2) more bodies are needed to do the work needed to facilitate the extraction of resources. The turning point in human prehistory was probably the invention of agriculture. The latter, ironically, doesn't actually substantially increase the net energy per capita gain as compared with hunting and gathering, at least where the latter is done in environs that provide renewable abundance in game and food plants. Rather, it tends to decrease the uncertainty of food resource availability, which we humans seem to appreciate. Also ironically, agriculture takes more work per unit time to achieve reliable results, hence an actual reduction in net energy gain per unit of time spent in food production, per capita.

In other words, Dilworth appears to be arguing that the population increases that have been attributed to agriculture came not from an increased availability of food, per se, but from a diminishing of the strength of signals that would have triggered internal natural checks on population expansion enabled by the use of food production technologies. The working classes were allowed to just barely subsist and procreate sufficiently to assure a continuing or even expanding working class to support the higher classes. And, the taller the class hierarchy, the broader the base working class needed. But such expansion also included bringing more land into cultivation in order to support the growing population and still provide a steady flow of goods up to the higher reaches of the hierarchy. Growth of population and “economic” activity — originally farming — thus became a necessity and not just a consequence.

Diminishing Net Energy Per Capita

Of course, the problem is that there is just so much land that can be cultivated. We live on a finite world. Resources, including land, are finite. As growth consumes more and more of the area around the centers of the civilization hierarchies it eventually comes up against either competing hierarchies or marginal land that eventually cannot sustain a production quantity needed. There is an additional interesting phenomenon that occurs as expansion continues, even when the land might be productive. Under the conditions of travel by animal-drawn carts, it turns out that there is a natural distance from the center beyond which the net energy returns begin to diminish geometrically with linear (arithmetic) increase in distance. Horses and oxen need to be fed and can only carry so much weight. The strategy of growth as a way to keep the enterprise going may have seemed like a good idea to the overseers, but in fact there came a time when each unit of growth produced diminishing, and eventually negative benefits. This is related to the idea first advanced by Joseph Tainter regarding the collapse of civilizations due to increased complexity[1].

The phenomenon of a population exceeding its environment's carrying capacity, defined as the capacity of the environment to replenish levels of required resources at a rate that can sustain an average number of individuals (or more correctly the amount of biomass represented in a given species) and to absorb the waste products of that population without toxic overload, has been documented many times in ecological studies. The world works primarily on a steady but limited flow of energy from the sun. In the end, that flow of energy determines the rate of biological resource replenishment (all other factors being equal). All other animals are restricted to a relatively fixed carrying capacity, at least over normal life cycle times. But humans, in their ability to harness exosomatic (outside their own bodies) sources of energy, and their capacity for invention, found a workaround to this basic limit. They developed ways to appropriate more resources for themselves, leaving the sub-human species less for their needs. Agriculture, after all, requires taking over large tracts of land for the purpose of growing just a few crops of interest to humans, generally in mono culture. Too often this results in loss of habitat for many other species.

Once humans discovered and started dipping into the bank account of fossil sunlight known as fossil fuels, the explosion of population was inevitable. For the last several centuries, thanks to the high energy content of hydrocarbon fuels, the net energy per capita used to extract other natural resources and support greater consumption has been increasing. The energy return on energy invested in extracting fossil fuels started out so high that human ingenuity for finding ways to consume more were seemingly released from any natural constraints. The modern technological society emerged as a result.

Unfortunately, fossil fuels are exactly the kind of finite non-renewable resource that constitutes an upper bound on the extent of the population. No, actually it is worse than that. Because we have reached a point in which those fuels are diminishing in toto, and what we are extracting now takes more energy to do it, we have the equivalent of what earlier civilizations faced when they reached the geographical limits for net energy gain. We are approaching the point of zero gains (if we haven't already passed it) and from here on out every human being on the planet will be facing a decline in net energy available to stay alive. Income inequities make the variances cause increasing starvation at the low ends while the higher classes keep trying to appropriate wealth for themselves.

The human species, like other species under similar conditions, has gone into overshoot. The very typical outcome of such a condition, primarily because the dynamics are nonlinear, is a crash, a wipe out of the majority of the population[2]. Dilworth, in his conclusion, is in agreement with a growing number of researchers that this is the most likely outcome for humanity. We are animals after all.

Derivative Problems

Overpopulation, i.e., overshoot, and diminishing net energy per capita lead to a large number of secondary problems that will also play a role in an unsustainable future for humanity. We are running out of potable water in many regions. This is in part because of overshoot but also in part due to climate changes that, in turn, are aggravated, if not directly caused by, the burning of fossil fuels adding carbon dioxide, a greenhouse gas, to the atmosphere and oceans at unprecedented rates. The globe is warming and this leads to the climate chaos we are starting to witness. It also leads to ocean level rises that will inundate many inhabited regions of the globe in the not-too-distant future.

From the time of early agriculture and the reorganization of societies, humans needed some convenient method for abstractly representing wealth. At first they needed some way to account for stored grains and other commodities that would be traded. Later they needed a convenient way to carry around representations of the wealth they controlled and trade those representations rather than carry around the wealth itself. Money was invented to accomplish this task. Not long thereafter a form of lending was invented to act as investment in new enterprises. Derived most likely from the dispensing of saved grains as seed to be used by new young farmers to get started, the idea of lending wealth to generate more wealth in the future took hold. Today we have debt financing of everything from homes to bets (Wall Street). This idea of using debt-based money to invest in a future increase in wealth production was workable, even when abused as has become clear in recent years. As long as the supply of net energy was increasing there was always an expectation that the economy would expand and that would allow the pay down of debt. This was the case for the industrial revolution and well into the 1950s the expansion of oil and other fossil fuel supplies was supporting the capacity to do more physical work in the future. That meant there could be more wealth produced in the future, enough to pay back both principal and interest (the rental cost of the money for the risk taken) as well as make a profit. But now that the net energy supply is starting to diminish the strategy of growth and debt-based financing (as opposed to savings-based, as was the case in lending excess grain to a farmer for seed) is failing. And because society went so far into a debt buildup in expectation that growth would just go on forever, the resulting bubble burst that has ensued (and is still in progress) has had devastating effects on global economies. And it will only get worse.

We humans have been incredibly smart in devising machines, methodologies, and abstractions that have exploited the availability of natural resources and especially exosomatic energy sources. Too smart.

But not, it seems, smart enough to think ahead about the consequences of consumption of finite resources. We were and are extremely clever. But we are not wise.

What Does It Mean to Be Smart?


All of the above problems might have solutions if we can just invent the right technologies and apply them in time to avoid pain and suffering. We should be able to do this because we are smart apes, right?

This is precisely where the argument turns. We are smart. Smart enough to create technologies like agriculture and machinery that seem to solve certain immediate problems. We seek more certainty in our food supply so we plant and tend crops. We have to settle down in one place to do this but that, at first, seems a side benefit. We want to get places fast, and do harder work faster so we invent machine-based tools that require external sources of energy to run. We solve a problem, the problem of increasing demand for the products, by making those products more rapidly. At every turn, the smart ape has solved a problem of immediacy and done so with extraordinary results.
What this ape has also done is ignore a meta-problem. Every problem solution carries with it the seeds of another problem of greater scope. Dilworth sees the pattern clearly. It turns out that the entropy version of the Second Law of Thermodynamics explains this situation[3].

In the process of humans inventing ways to do what is to them useful work (and solve problems) they are effectively decreasing the local entropy in their vicinity. That is, they are increasing the order (e.g. building functional structures and equipment) for themselves. But the Second Law tells us that every gain in order in a system can come only at the expense of an even greater increase in disorder (entropy) of the larger, embedding system — the environment. So even as humans increased the “value” of their human-built world, they did so at the greater expense of the environment. Order and organization on the Earth have decreased overall (think, for example, about biodiversity - a measure of organization/complexity), as the Second Law demands, but at a rate accelerated by the activities of humanity. The Earth system had been operating close to a dynamic equilibrium (Dilworth's first chapter provides insights into the meaning of this) prior to the evolution of humans. This is because the solar influx of energy had stabilized and even though the Earth was experiencing cycles (e.g. the ice ages) of ups and downs, on the whole, the biosphere was adaptively able to maintain its activities precisely because the rate of fluctuation was matched by the rate of evolutionary change in species. After humans got started, that dynamic state was forever disrupted, with greater energy dissipation and rejiggering of many of the large scale, long time geochemical cycles such as the carbon and hydrological cycles. All of this is now witnessed at a global scale. And it is very much the proximal cause of all of our other problems.

So here is the crux of the matter. We are smart enough to have created this situation by virtue of our capacity to increase the rate of entropy increase for the whole Earth system. But we are not smart enough to fix it. That is because of a simple fact. Smartness is for invention and solving local problems. Intelligence and creativity are great for finding new ways to increase entropy. In a perverse twist, this is exactly what biological evolution was all about! And we smart humans were simply fulfilling our biological mandates. Unfortunately, from my own perspective, that also means the greatest natural check of all, a negative feedback control, whereby humans destroy the very life support systems they need to exist, will correct the situation. Any time any system gets out of control it breaks apart. Why should the human-built system be any different?

The Vicious Circle Principle


Thus we come to Dilworth's vicious circle principle (VCP). Man gets smart enough to become inventive. He invents things that allow him to survive and through increased fitness produce more offspring. But as often as not he creates something like a surplus and nature abhors both vacuums and concentrations, so man begets more men to work off the surplus. Or he invents some variation on a need fulfilling tool that produces something men might want, even though it isn't strictly speaking in support of survival. After a while, those wants being fulfilled, man gets used to having whatever it is and it effectively becomes a new need. But then population overshoot reduces the availability of the whatever and a new problem exists. So back to the drawing board, invent something else that will fulfill the new need. And around we go again. I have not done justice to Dilworth's explication here. I only wanted to give the reader a sense of the direction the author is taking. Of course you should read his work to fill in the details. And there are many more details that he covers superbly.

This VCP, according to Dilworth's thesis, is the penultimate root cause of all problems that we are experiencing. It is the process where intervention would be needed to stop and reverse the predicament. But therein lay the greatest problem of all. The VCP exists because of our human nature and nothing short of changing that is going to allow an intervention that could halt the vicious circle dynamic.

I think that Dilworth has truly put his finger on the central problem for human kind. We are caught on a circle of activity that is ‘vicious’ in terms of creating and worsening all of the problems we face. But I have reservations about this way of putting it.

‘Vicious’ is a value laden term. This circle, which increases the Earth's overall entropy, appears vicious precisely because we are the victims, and we cannot help having an anthropocentric perspective. But looked at from the perspective of evolution there is nothing vicious about it at all. In fact the term vicious has no meaning at all in evolution. Would we have thought of the comet that ploughed into Earth 65 million years ago and appears to have been instrumental in killing off the dinosaurs as vicious? Were the climate changes associated with ancient ice ages that appear to have been instrumental in the evolution of the genus Homo vicious because they also created the conditions that made other species of primitive humans go extinct?

I have preferred to think of the phenomenon of man's cleverness as the emergence of a new phenomenon in exactly the same way we now think of the emergence of life from pre biological chemistry. Of course, taking this perspective means that the destruction of civilization and the potential bottleneck event for humanity[4] are fundamentally necessary. And that is the hard part to swallow. As a human no one could ‘want’ the demise of our species, certainly. On the other hand, if we are really so smart as to understand the full implications of evolution itself, perhaps we could come to accept the inevitability of this outcome.

Conclusion


Overall, I think Dilworth's book has added an important perspective to understanding humanity's predicament. That is to say, once one has acknowledged that humans are facing a predicament that may not have any resolution but one of collapse and demise, then at least Dilworth provides an explanation for how it came about.

I have just one technical issue with the work, and one philosophical difference. The technical issue has to do with the author's heavy reliance on the concept of karyotypology to explain speciation. He uses the karyotype as if equating it to the singular marker of speciation, i.e., two different species within a single genus would have differing karyotypes. The evolutionists and geneticists I've spoken to about this express puzzlement at this usage. Karyotypes refer to the structural forms of chromosomes, especially as they appear in metaphase of mitotic cell division. It is the case that different species within a given genera may have different numbers and shapes of chromosomes that are thought to interfere with hybridization (at least viable) but this isn't always the case. Species differentiation is most generally thought to be genetic based. Some genetic differences could, of course, be the cause of differences in karyotypes, but that is a side effect of speciation, not the cause. Even with this possible misinterpretation of cause and effect in speciation, Dilworth's overall narrative of evolution is functionally correct, so the heavy reliance on karyotypology doesn't materially detract from the story.

I am with the author insofar as the pathway by which we reached this crossroads point. I agree we are too smart for our own good. But, my own take is that this is not an indictment of intelligence and creativity so much as a recognition of an inadequacy, to date, for the evolution of a mentality that might be more fit to manage its own smartness. We are smart, but not adequately wise. And we are not adequately wise because our brain structures that handle higher-order judgment have not yet evolved sufficiently to manage our smartness. You have heard the old saw: “Just because we can do a thing doesn't mean we should do that thing.” Just because we figured out how to split the atom to generate unimagined energies didn't necessarily mean that we should build atom bombs or nuclear reactors. We did it because we could and there was no higher-order judgment providing intuitions about the dangers of progressing down that road.

The brain basis for higher-order judgment and intuitive, unbiased guidance for decision making is what I have called sapience. It is the newest brain capacity in evolutionary terms and is deeply related to the capacity of humans to form abstract representations, especially language. It co-evolved with intelligence but started ‘later’ in evolutionary history, so is out of phase with the former. It has to catch up. My story ends a bit differently from Dilworth's. I see the impending impasse as the evolutionary opportunity for this to occur. In other words, rather than just writing off the genus Homo as failed because it was too smart, I prefer to imagine that the bottleneck is an opportunity for sapience to expand and come to provide an adequate management mental capacity for our cleverness. I have developed a scenario for the further evolution of the brain structures involved in sapience that require surprisingly little additional brain matter — more an issue of slight reorganization and wiring. Of course this is highly speculative. But it is based on known neuroscience and evolution theory. It is not idle speculation.

Whether Dilworth is right, that the end is upon us due to being too smart for our own good, or I am right that this is just a stepping stone toward an improved sentience on Earth, is something none of us will ever know. Where we deeply agree is what the near consequences for Homo sapiens sapiens will be. And the value in attending to the consequences is in anything we can conjure to lessen the pain and suffering — to be forewarned is to be prepared. The real value of Dilworth's work is to at least find some intellectually satisfying (even if disturbing) explanation for why we are where we are.


Footnotes


[1] Tainter, J. (1988). The Collapse of Complex Societies, Cambridge University Press.
[2] Catton, William (1982). Overshoot: The Ecological Basis of Revolutionary Change, University of Illinois Press.
[3] See: Schneider, E. D. & Sagan, D. (2006). Into the Cool: Energy Flow, Thermodynamics, and Life, University of Chicago Press.
[4] See: Catton, William (2009). Bottleneck: Humanity's Impending Impasse, Xlibris.

Also see my review of this book: Question Everything: Humanity's Impending Impasse.

Who

Ugo Bardi is a member of the Club of Rome, faculty member of the University of Florence, and the author of "Extracted" (Chelsea Green 2014), "The Seneca Effect" (Springer 2017), and Before the Collapse (Springer 2019)