I've given myself a major task to be completed today: I'm going to tidy up my desk. You can talk about the Labours of Hercules but dealing with the Nemean Lion or cleaning up the Augean Stables had nothing on my labour today. It's only a desk but, in many ways, it's the centre of my world on most days.
It's not a typical 6 x 3 ft rectangular office desk. Instead it's 150cm wide, straight at the back and sides and free-form at the front. Free-form means it's curved. From the left front corner, it gently curves outwards, makes a left hand turn and a dramatic whoosh to the right-hand back. I obtained it from Giant Steps after I had left, having bought it years before in one of those few times when we had a bit of spare money. The staff hated it and, when I left, they shoved it in a shed, and they were delighted to give to me for nothing if I took it away.
The trouble is, I've got too much junk on it. There's the desktop, of course, and an Apple laptop, a sort of standing file box, desk lamp, container with pencils, a small bowl with USB sticks, a couple of photographs, a few note books, a small fan ... it's depressing just looking at it.
I have a couple of things to do on the computer and then I'll start today's blog post. Promise!
The story today is called In the Future, from 2022, and is self-explanatory.
IN THE FUTURE
I’ve made some mistakes in the past, I’m not too proud to admit and, when something embarrassing happens or I do something I later regret, I always resolve that I will be more careful in the future: in the future, when everything is rosy, birds sing and the sun shines every day, my aches and pains miraculously disappear and I never get a day older.
Humans, generally, seem to believe that, no matter how dire things are at the moment, they can only get better. It’s that optimism which allows us to take a boring, soul-destroying job in the expectation that it will turn into a future career. When we are hardly out of school, we borrow unimaginable amounts of money to buy a house which we may never pay off and which may need to be replaced when our family grows a little more than we expected. And the system works. When I was 8 years old, my parents opened an account for me with the Commonwealth Bank and I paid in a shilling a week from my pocket money. I resented it then, but that account helped me buy the suit I wore at my wedding.
Are humans the only animals which plan for the future? I know that squirrels store away nuts, and some birds stash surplus food for later. Archie, the dog that’s living with us at the moment, often hides away a biscuit but I suspect he can’t live with the knowledge that there is an uneaten biscuit nearby so he generally retrieves it after a few minutes and takes pleasure in eating it straight away. However, are these just anecdotal instances and is there more to it?
I checked to see what researchers are doing in this field and found that many have found it to be a fruitful area for study. Thomas Suddendorf and Michael C Corbalis, in a study called ‘The Evolution of Foresight’, suggest that, for us to propose that animals stash their food, meaningfully, knowing that there may be a future shortage, they must be able to display that they have ‘mechanisms allowing prediction of future situations’. The researchers call this ‘mental time travel’ but suggest ‘there is no convincing evidence’ that non-human animals genuinely display that ability. Researchers take themselves so seriously.
Many of us will find this disappointing: that birds, beavers, our precocious pets and other animals are simply following their instincts and, in fact, probably have no sense or concept of the future, let alone being able to plan for it.
So, there’s a lot of weight on the shoulders of the human race: bearing the burden that we are the only species who have a concept of the future and can appreciate the importance of planning for it. We’ve shown that we can save for a rainy day and, if the motivation is sufficient, we will deny ourselves benefits today for a larger benefit in the future. Are we wise enough, as a race, to reserve something from our present to allow for a better future for all living things? And, are we mature enough to make the sacrifices today that all living things are relying on to ensure their future? Of course, I’m not asking the whole of the human race to share in this burden. Most of the world’s population struggle to survive from day to day. The burden of saving the planet and all the living things in it must fall on the so-called developed nations. Are we up to the challenge?
It's not looking promising. Scientists tell us it might already be too late; that the damages we have caused to the environment might be irreversible and the best we can hope for is to slow down the inevitable grinding to a halt of life as we know it. Will we, in effect, decide to go out with a bang or with a whimper?
Harking back to my first paragraph: are we, as a race, ready to admit we have made mistakes in the past and resolve to do better in the future? Can the leadership be found to lead us into a brighter future where everything is rosy, birds continue to sing and the sun shines every day? If I thought that the future can be made more secure I might even stop complaining about my aches and pains.
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