If we pay attention, our moral sensitivity sharpens!

Take tea, for example. I start by drinking very sweet ordinary tea while reading the morning paper. The tea is little more than an excuse for a sugar rush. One day I realise that between the sugar and the newspaper, I hardly taste the tea at all. So I reduce the amount of sugar, put the paper aside, close my eyes and focus on the tea itself. I begin to register its unique aroma and flavour. Soon I find myself experimenting with different teas, black and green, comparing their exquisite tangs and delicate bouquets. Within a few months, I drop the supermarket labels and buy my tea at Harrods. I develop a particular liking for ‘Panda Dung tea’ from the mountains of Ya’an in Sichuan province, made from leaves of tea trees fertilised by the dung of panda bears. That’s how, one cup at a time, I hone my tea sensitivity and become a tea connoisseur. If in my early tea-drinking days you had served me Panda Dung tea in a Ming Dynasty porcelain goblet, I would not have appreciated it much more than builder’s tea in a paper cup. You cannot experience something if you don’t have the necessary sensitivity, and you cannot develop your sensitivity except by undergoing a long string of experiences.

What’s true of tea is true of all other aesthetic and ethical knowledge. We aren’t born with a ready-made conscience. As we pass through life, we hurt people and people hurt us, we act compassionately and others show compassion to us. If we pay attention, our moral sensitivity sharpens, and these experiences become a source of valuable ethical knowledge about what is good, what is right and who I really am.

Humanism thus sees life as a gradual process of inner change, leading from ignorance to enlightenment by means of experiences.

Humanism: Think for Yourself

In the Middle Ages, guilds controlled the production process, leaving little room for the initiative or taste of individual artisans and customers. The carpenters’ guild determined what was a good chair, the bakers’ guild defined good bread, and the Meistersinger guild decided which songs were first class and which were rubbish. Meanwhile princes and city councils regulated salaries and prices, occasionally forcing people to buy fixed amounts of goods at a non-negotiable price. In the modern free market, all these guilds, councils and princes have been superseded by a new supreme authority – the free will of the customer.

Suppose Toyota decides to produce the perfect car. It sets up a committee of experts from various fields: it hires the best engineers and designers, brings together the finest physicists and economists, and even consults with several sociologists and psychologists. To be on the safe side, they throw in a Nobel laureate or two, an Oscar-winning actress and some world-famous artists. After five years of research and development, they unveil the perfect car. Millions of vehicles are produced, and shipped to car agencies across the world. Yet nobody buys the car. Does it mean that the customers are making a mistake, and that they don’t know what’s good for them? No. In a free market, the customer is always right. If customers don’t want it, it means that it is not a good car. It doesn’t matter if all the university professors and all the priests and mullahs cry out from every pulpit that this is a wonderful car – if the customers reject it, it is a bad car. Nobody has the authority to tell customers that they are wrong, and heaven forbid that a government would try to force citizens to buy a particular car against their will.

What’s true of cars is true of all other products. Listen, for example, to Professor Leif Andersson from the University of Uppsala. He specialises in the genetic enhancement of farm animals, in order to create faster-growing pigs, dairy cows that produce more milk, and chickens with extra meat on their bones. In an interview for the newspaper Haaretz, reporter Naomi Darom confronted Andersson with the fact that such genetic manipulations might cause much suffering to the animals. Already today ‘enhanced’ dairy cows have such heavy udders that they can barely walk, while ‘upgraded’ chickens cannot even stand up. Professor Andersson had a firm answer: 

‘Everything comes back to the individual customer and to the question how much the customer is willing to pay for meat . . . we must remember that it would be impossible to maintain current levels of global meat consumption without the [enhanced] modern chicken . . . if customers ask us only for the cheapest meat possible – that’s what the customers will get . . . Customers need to decide what is most important to them – price, or something else.’

Professor Andersson can go to sleep at night with a clean conscience. The fact that customers are buying his enhanced animal products implies that he is meeting their needs and desires and is therefore doing good. By the same logic, if some multinational corporation wants to know whether it lives up to its ‘Don’t be evil’ motto, it need only take a look at its bottom line. If it makes loads of money, it means that millions of people like its products, which implies that it is a force for good. If someone objects and says that people might make the wrong choice, he will be quickly reminded that the customer is always right, and that human feelings are the source of all meaning and authority. If millions of people freely choose to buy the company’s products, who are you to tell them that they are wrong?

Finally, the rise of humanist ideas has revolutionised the educational system too. In the Middle Ages the source of all meaning and authority was external, hence education focused on instilling obedience, memorising scriptures and studying ancient traditions. Teachers presented pupils with a question, and the pupils had to remember how Aristotle, King Solomon or St Thomas Aquinas answered it.

In contrast, modern humanist education believes in teaching students to think for themselves. It is good to know what Aristotle, Solomon and Aquinas thought about politics, art and economics; yet since the supreme source of meaning and authority lies within ourselves, it is far more important to know what you think about these matters. Ask a teacher – whether in kindergarten, school or college – what she is trying to teach. ‘Well,’ she will answer, ‘I teach the kids history, or quantum physics, or art – but above all I try to teach them to think for themselves.’ It may not always succeed, but that is what humanist education seeks to do.

Capitalist Faith!

Nowadays it is generally accepted that some version of free-market capitalism is a much more efficient way of ensuring long-term growth, hence rich farmers and freedom of expression are protected, but ecological habitats, social structures and traditional values that stand in the way of free-market capitalism are destroyed and dismantled.

Take, for example, a software engineer making $250 per hour working for some hi-tech start-up. One day her elderly father has a stroke. He now needs help with shopping, cooking and even showering. She could move her father to her own house, leave home later in the morning, come back earlier in the evening and take care of her father personally. Both her income and the start-up’s productivity would suffer, but her father would enjoy the care of a respectful and loving daughter. Alternatively, the engineer could hire a Mexican carer who, for $25 per hour, would live with the father and provide for all his needs. That would mean business as usual for the engineer and her start-up, and even the carer and the Mexican economy would benefit. What should the engineer do?

Free-market capitalism has a firm answer. If economic growth demands that we loosen family bonds, encourage people to live away from their parents, and import carers from the other side of the world – so be it. This answer, however, involves an ethical judgement rather than a factual statement. No doubt, when some people specialise in software engineering while others spend their time taking care of the elderly, we can produce more software and give old people more professional care. Yet is economic growth more important than family bonds? By daring to make such ethical judgements, free-market capitalism has crossed the border from the land of science to that of religion.

Most capitalists would probably dislike the title of religion, but as religions go, capitalism can at least hold its head high. Unlike other religions that promise us a pie in the sky, capitalism promises miracles here on earth – and sometimes even provides them. Much of the credit for overcoming famine and plague belongs to the ardent capitalist faith in growth. Capitalism even deserves some kudos for reducing human violence and increasing tolerance and cooperation. As the next chapter explains, there are additional factors at play here, but “capitalism did make an important contribution to global harmony by encouraging people to stop viewing the economy as a zero-sum game, in which your profit is my loss, and instead see it as a win–win situation, in which your profit is also my profit. This has probably helped global harmony far more than centuries of Christian preaching about loving your neighbour and turning the other cheek.

From its belief in the supreme value of growth, capitalism deduces its number one commandment: thou shalt invest thy profits in increasing growth. For most of history princes and priests wasted their profits on flamboyant carnivals, sumptuous palaces and unnecessary wars. Alternatively, they put gold coins in an iron chest, sealed it and buried it in a dungeon. Today, devout capitalists use their profits to hire new employees, enlarge the factory or develop a new product.

If they don’t know how to do it themselves, they give their money to somebody who does, such as bankers and venture capitalists. The latter lend the money to various entrepreneurs. Farmers take loans to plant new wheat fields, contractors build new houses, energy corporations explore new oil fields, and arms factories develop new weapons. The profits from all these activities enable the entrepreneurs to repay the loans with interest. We now have not only more wheat, houses, oil and weapons – but also more money, which the banks and funds can again lend. This wheel will never stop, at least not according to capitalism. We will never reach a moment when capitalism says: ‘That’s it. You have grown enough. You can now take it easy.’ If you want to know why the capitalist wheel is unlikely ever to stop, talk for an hour with a friend who has just earned $100,000 and wonders what to do with it.

‘The banks offer such low interest rates,’ he would complain. ‘I don’t want to put my money in a savings account that pays hardly 0.5 per cent a year. You can make perhaps 2 per cent in government bonds. My cousin Richie bought a flat in Seattle last year, and he has already made 20 per cent on his investment! Maybe I should go into real estate too; but everybody is saying there’s a new real-estate bubble. So what do you think about the stock exchange?  A friend told me the best deal these days is to buy an ETF that follows emerging economies, like Brazil or China.’ As he stops for a moment to breathe, you ask, ‘Well, why not just be satisfied with your $100,000?’ He will explain to you better than I can why capitalism will never stop.

I teach high-school math. Is my work pointless?

I am a mathematician and I am a math teacher. That does not mean that I am smarter or less sociable than the next fellow; math is just another profession. One thing I am certain of is that being a mathematician is the best profession in the world.

I am sometimes asked – by students, parents or strangers who see me wearing a geeky math T-shirt – what is the point of studying math? The question does not bother me. It is legitimate and non-trivial. What bothers me are the simplistic answers that are often given.

The most obvious rationale is to develop basic numeracy skills – from counting your change, to figuring out what your mortgage rate means, to interpreting some basic statistics in the news. Everybody agrees, but these only require math knowledge accumulated up to Grade 7. I teach high school. Is my work pointless?

Not if you think of math as a gym for the mind. Children develop strength, co-ordination and risk taking by climbing jungle gyms on the playground. Grown-ups stay healthy – both mentally and physically – by staying active. Math – when rightly and regularly done – keeps the mind active. It develops analytical thinking, creativity, pattern recognition, patience and focus.

Of course, the operative words here are “rightly” and “regularly.” If we just load the students with a bag full of tools that they hardly use, there will be little benefit. It is like teaching your soccer team how to do correct throw-ins and how to recognize an offside position – but not spending much time playing games. The “right” way to do mathematics is not to learn many techniques, but to solve many problems using the learned techniques. The word “regularly” is also of essence. Some parents, who know how important thorough and focused practice is when it comes to developing piano or hockey skills, don’t seem to realize that completing math work in the car when driven from the piano lesson to the hockey practice is not a formula for success.

It’s not easy to see an obvious practical use for different branches of mathematics learned in school. To see the benefits, one needs to look beneath the surface.

Take Euclidean geometry, with its proofs of similarity and collinearity. Who cares if we prove beyond any doubt that three points are collinear?

But did you know that former U.S. president Abraham Lincoln was a lawyer by trade who carefully studied Euclid’s Elements, a book that, through geometry, builds the fundamentals of clear and correct reasoning? In an ideal society, not just lawyers and mathematicians should be able to present a point of view in a convincing way: A follows from B, which is a consequence of C.

Algebra is also a target of smart alecs from respected authors (Stephen Leacock comes to mind) to stand-up comedians and even fellow teachers. Yes, I admit, factoring polynomials and completing squares – the stuff of teenage nightmares – hardly comes in handy in our daily lives. I also admit that we math teachers sometimes indulge in too much fancy technicality that may be more interesting to us than it is for our audiences. However, no matter what the sins of the math teachers, algebra is probably one of the most useful inventions of humankind. Airplanes fly because physics and engineering are written in algebraic terms. Computers are living, breathing algebra-based golems. Any science that does not use the language of algebra to some extent, well, is not quite science – it’s opinion.

Paradoxically, one of the greatest practical advantages of learning mathematics is to develop abstract thinking. In a math problem, a bus travelling from A to B is stripped of other details – colour, size, age of driver – so we can apply the same formula when solving a problem about a motorcycle. Abstract thinking is one of the greatest assets of intelligent beings. From the paintings in the Lascaux caves to Salvador Dali’s work, creativity stems from abstract thought. We cannot live our concrete lives without a feel for abstract concepts, from rhythm and comfort to the more complex: morals, beauty and love.

I’ve left the most difficult to understand benefit of studying math to the end: I think that math is beautiful. It is also a collection of some of the most amazing creations of human genius. Can I convince the uninitiated? It would be hard. One first needs to have the patience, respect and desire to learn the language of mathematics, then its idioms, then its quirks and subtleties. Then we can talk beauty.

In class, when we get tired of factoring polynomials, I tell my students that life is all about discovering the beauty that surrounds us – math, music, poetry, the structure of a living organism. You only need to have the patience to learn the proper language to see it.

Many, many years ago, I was graduating from high school and I was considering a career in mathematics. I asked a math professor for advice. “Why do you want to study math?” he asked me. “Because I think it is fun.” He told me it wasn’t, really, that there would be much tedious work and frustration. Then he paused, and added with a smile, “I guess it also has its fun and awesome moments.” I spent my next 40 years doing math and never looked back.

Alexandru Pintilie

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/facts-and-arguments/i-teach-high-school-math-is-my-workpointless/article34086848/

Kafamda Bir Tuhaflık

O zamanlar tıpkı Kültepe’de olduğu gibi, Duttepe’de de kimsenin arsasının tapusu yoktu. Boş bir araziye ev yapan girişken kişi, evinin çevresine bir iki kavak ve söğüt ağacı diktikten, sınırları belirleyecek bir duvarın ilk taşlarını yerleştirdikten sonra, muhtara gidip para verip bu arazideki evi, ağaçları kendi diktiğine ilişkin bir kâğıt alırdı. Kâğıtlarda, tıpkı Tapu Kadastro Müdürlüğü’nden verilmiş gerçek tapularda olduğu gibi, muhtarın kendi eliyle, cetvel kullanarak çizdiği bir de ilkel kroki olurdu. Muhtar krokiye çocuksu el yazısıyla, bitişikte filancanın arsası, altında falancanın evi, çeşme, duvar (çoğu zaman duvar yerine bir iki taş olurdu), kavak ağacı gibi notlar düşer, eline fazla para verirsen arsanın hayalî sınırlarını daha da büyük gösteren kelimeler de ekler, dibine de mührünü basardı.

Ama arazi hazinenin ya da orman idaresinin malı olduğu için, muhtardan alınan bu kâğıtların garantisi yoktu. Tapusuz araziye yapılan ev, her an devlet tarafından yıkılabilirdi. Elleriyle yaptıkları evlerinde ilk gecelerini geçirenler bu felaketin geldiğini rüya-larında görürlerdi. Muhtarın kâğıtlarının önemi bir gün devlet, on yılda bir yaptığı gibi, seçimler sırasında gecekondulara tapu verirse çıkacaktı ortaya. Çünkü tapular muhtar kâğıtlarına bakarak dağıtılacaktı. Ayrıca muhtardan bir arazinin kendi arazisi olduğuna ilişkin bir kâğıt alan kişi, arsasını başkasına satabilirdi. Anadolu’dan her gün işsiz-güçsüz, evsizlerin şehre yoğun bir şekilde geldiği dönemlerde bu muhtar kâğıtlarının fiyatı hemen yükselir, pahalılaşan arsalar bölünüp hızla parsellenir ve göçün hızına göre muhtarların siyasi gücü de artardı.

Bütün bu yoğun faaliyete rağmen devlet güçleri keyiflerine eser ve günün siyasetine uygun bulurlarsa jandarmalarla gelip bir gecekondu sahibini mahkemeye verebilir, evini yıkabilirlerdi. Önemli olan bir an önce evi bitirmek, içine girmek, orada yaşa-maktı. Çünkü içinde yaşanılan evin yıkılması için bir mahkeme kararı gerekiyor, bu da çok vakit alıyordu. Herhangi bir tepede bir arsayı “benim” diye çeviren kişi, akıllıysa ilk fırsatta bir gecede ailesinin, eş dostun yardımıyla oraya dört duvar çekip, hemen içine girip yaşamaya başlamalıydı ki ertesi gün yıkıcılar evine doku- namasın. Çatısı kapatılmamış, hatta duvarları, pencereleri bitirilmemiş evlere girip yıldızları yorgan, göğü de çatı belleyip İstanbul’daki evlerinde ilk uykularını uyuyan annelerin ve çocukların hikâyelerini dinlemeyi severdi Mevlut. Rivayete göre “gecekondu” kelimesini tarihte ilk kullanan, bir gecede on iki evin duvarını yükseltip içine girilecek hale koyan Erzincanlı bir duvar ustasıydı ve yaşlılıktan ölünce Duttepe mezarlığına ona dua etmeye binlerce kişi gitmişti.

**

"I had melancholy thoughts ...

a strangeness in my mind,

A feeling that I was not for that hour,

Nor for that place."

1. Dünya Savaşı Hatıraları

2. Dünya Savaşı ve Türkiye

İstiklal Mahkemeleri

İskilipli Atıf Hoca

Rusya

Örümceklerin Yuvalandığı Patika

“Pietromagro düşünceye dalıyor. "Tabii, tabii, siyasi tutuklu. Seni burada görünce, işte, diye düşündüm, hapislerde çürümeye başlamış bile. Çünkü adam bir kez hapsi boylamaya başlarsa, bir daha çıkamaz; bin kere dışarı salıverseler, bin kere hapse geri döner. Tabii, siyasi tutukluysan, iş değişir. Bak, bilsem, gençliğimde ben de siyasilerin safına katılırdım. Çünkü adi suç işlemekle hiçbir yere varamazsın ve az çalan hapsi boylar, çok çalan han hamam sahibi olur. Siyasi suç işlediğinde de, adi suç işlediğinde olduğu gibi, hapse girersin (kim suç işlerse, hapsi boylar), ama hiç olmazsa bir gün artık hapislerin olmadığı daha iyi bir dünyaya kavuşma umudun vardır. Bunu bana yıllar önce birlikte hapis yattığımız bir siyasi tutuklu söylemişti: Siyah sakallı bir adamcağız, sonra öldü. Çünkü ben adi suçlusunu da tanıdım, kaçakçısını da, vergi kaçıranını da, her tür insanı tanıdım, ama siyasi tutuklular kadar düzgün olanını görmedim.”

Terror Kid

“Like millions of other people he watched the news on television and saw wars and famines around the world, he saw how people were forced to flee their countries for safety, and how one group of people could oppress another, and when he had listened to all the politicians talking and making excuses, he still couldn’t understand why. Why people did the things they did to each other, and why decent people didn’t rise up to end the conflicts and inequalities in the world. He was sensitive to the suffering of others, but just feeling sorry for them was not enough: he wanted to help them, he wanted to do something. He was angry, but his anger was silent. He hated violence, but he wanted to change the world. He just didn’t know how.”