Neil deGrasse Tyson on the Hidden Costs of a Cosmic Perspective

Neil deGrasse Tyson’s Astrophysics for People in a Hurry is a satisfying success of book. And in his last chapter, “Reflections on the Cosmic Perspective,” I think he raises an unexpected and difficult question: where do we fit in to all this astral splendor? He acknowledges that his fascination with the cosmos can be a distraction from earthly and humane concerns. Here are passages.

Wikipedia

       The cosmic view comes with a hidden cost. When I travel thousands of miles to spend a few moments in the fast-moving shadow during a total solar eclipse, sometimes I lose sight of Earth.

       When I pause and reflect on our expanding universe, with its galaxies hurtling away from one another, embedded within the ever stretching, four-dimensional fabric of space and time, sometimes I forget that uncounted people walk this earth without food or shelter, and that children are disproportionately represented among them….

       When I track the orbits of asteroids, comments, and planets, each one a pirouetting dancer in a cosmic ballet, choreographed by the forces of gravity, sometimes I forget that too many people act in wanton disregard for the delicate interplay of Earth’s atmosphere, oceans and land.…

       And sometimes I forget that powerful people rarely do all they can to help those who cannot help themselves. I occasionally forget those things because, however big the world is…the universe is even bigger.

     …[I] think of people not as the masters of space and time but as participants in a great cosmic chain of being, with a direct genetic link across species both living and extinct, extending back nearly four billion years to the earliest single-celled organisms on Earth….If a huge genetic gap separated us from our closest relatives in the animal kingdom, we could justifiably celebrate our brilliance. We might be entitled to walk around thinking we are distant and distinct from our fellow creatures. But no such gap exists. Instead we are one with the rest of nature, fitting neither above nor below, but within.

     [The cosmic perspective is] more than about what you know. It’s also about having the wisdom and insight to apply that knowledge to assessing our place in the universe.

     The cosmic perspective is humble….

     [It is] spiritual–even redemptive–but not religious….

     [It] enables us to grasp, in the same thought, the large and the small….

     [It] opens our eyes to the universe, not as a benevolent cradle designed to nurture life but as a cold, lonely, hazardous place, forcing us to reassess the value of all humans to one another….

     [It] not only embraces our genetic kinship with all life on Earth but also values our chemical kinship with any yet-to-be discovered life in the universe, as well as our atomic kinship with the universe itself.

In those last points—about the universe as a “lonely, hazardous place”  and at the same time that we can embrace our kinship to all of it, life included—Tyson hints at the tension that a unified cosmic perspective entails. Much as we wish it weren’t so, we are odd ducks in a dark, dangerous ocean. For Tyson, our best spiritual move is to find “kinships” wherever we can, with our atoms and our stars as well as with our ancestors.

Tyson’s discussion resonates for me, in a reversed sort of way. The astrophysicist finds his most satisfying meanings in the physics of the cosmos. This retired English teacher finds more to learn and more meaning in the history of living things. I am more drawn to the wily skills that plants use to survive than I am to the evolution of galaxies, though I recognize my “kinship” to them as well.

I think such preferences stem from the differences among us all in where we seek that which is greater-than-ourselves, that which is comforting-and-coherent. Perhaps such searches were less prone to fragmenting in the days when the deity or deities whom nearly all of us believed in provided the answers. The faces of the god or gods or their incarnations smoothed the way to a unified vision of the human condition within the universe.

Today, Tyson and others help fit together the strange, new, matter-and-energy pieces of a secular cosmic vision.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life Is Precious, Life Is Cheap

Life is precious. From humans to microbes, every organism arranges itself to energize itself, repair itself, avoid danger, resist death. A tomato plant defies death by its very persistence in living and by living beyond itself through its seeds. Life must be precious, for living is what organisms do at almost any price. A cancer survivor I know travels to the ocean once a year to celebrate her life. Humans travel to other planets in search of “signs of life.”

Life is cheap. The number of all organisms on this planet, from humans to microbes, is beyond counting. Life must be cheap, for living is what all these organisms do. Every body is vulnerable, dependent on the right heat, light, and water, built from ordinary materials, prone to breakage.  Big fish eat little fish, and humans eat big fish. For humans themselves, fear, depression, hunger, illness, disability, poverty, discrimination, and/or fatigue cramp some or most of our days. A healthy, fortunate and secure man asked me last week, “Is this all there is?” I said “Yes.”

Lives are precious yet cheap; one-of-a-kind and a dime a dozen; self-perpetuating and fleeting.

 

Escher’s “Ascending and Descending”