The tale of Justice Stalwart

 

I don’t know that there are any short cuts to doing a good job -Sandra Day O’Connor

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

Once upon a time, in the hallowed chambers of the highest court, Justice Stalwart sat in his high-backed leather chair, ready to ponder the weighty matters of equality and fairness before him in an impartial and unprejudiced manner.

On this particular day, unusual urgency was apparent in the rustle of legal briefs, and in the hushed whispers of clerks. Along with signs that something unusual was in the air, something else tugged at Justice Stalwart thoughts — an old memory of an upside-down flag fluttering in the wind and how it might affect the proceedings today.

It had begun innocently enough. Justice Stalwart’s wife, Delilah, had always been enthusiastic about flags. She collected them — American flags, state flags, even obscure historical flags, and sometimes on whim, created entirely new flags of made-up countries, like Drussia. Their home resembled a museum of vexillology in a peaceful and non-descript suburb.

But one day, the winds of discord blew through their neighborhood.

Anne Hutchinson, their neighbor, had erected a sign in her yard — a glittering, cursive proclamation that read, “Fay Umptray.” The sign sparkled like a rebellious star against the suburban backdrop. Delilah, ever the patriot, took offense. She marched over, her indignation flaring like a phosphorus matchstick.

“Anne,” she said, her voice trembling with righteousness, “this sign is an insult to our democracy!”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “Delilah, it is free speech. We are allowed to express our opinions. Particularly, against the aging politicians who chase and grab our cats.”

Enraged Delilah retreated to her own yard and unfurled one of finest American flag in her collection and hoisted it upside-down. It was her way of saying “This is my protest against my neighbors indecent and uncalled for behavior.”

And so, the flag flew — an emblem of defiance, a silent scream against perceived injustice.

Justice Stalwart was caught in an awkward situation and when confronted by journalists squarely put the responsibility for an upside-down flag in his front yard on his wifie’s shoulder and tried to come away clean.

Then came the day we started this story from — the day Justice Stalwart sat on the bench, robes billowing, ready to hand over judgments as needed.

The case before him involved a First Amendment challenge. A man had burned the flag during a protest, claiming it was his right to do so. The courtroom buzzed with anticipation wondering what stance Justice Stalwart would take, particularly in the backdrop of an upside-down flag flying in his own house.

Justice Stalwart leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. The flag outside the window, that stubborn symbol, seemed to mock him. He remembered Delilah’s fervent defense, her insistence that the upside-down flag was a symbol of her voice and way he had distanced himself from the incident. But now, faced with the same situation but in a dissimilar context, he had different thoughts.

“Your Honor,” the attorney argued, “burning the flag is an act of free speech. It is protected.”

Justice Stalwart glanced at the flagpole outside the window. The stars winked at him, as if daring him to decide. He thought of Anne’s sign of political defiance, of Delilah’s rebuttal, all in the name of free speech.

And then he spoke. “The flag,” he said, “is more than cloth. It is a canvas for our ideals, our past struggles as a nation. Desecrating it is a dishonor to the country.

The attorney blinked. “Your Honor, but you yourself stood complacent and watched the flag fly upside-down.”

Justice Stalwart straightened. “In this case,” he declared, “the flag was burned not as act of freedom but out of disrespect to the history of our nation.”

There was a pin drop silence in the courtroom.

The flag outside fluttered, as if ashamed of double standards right under its shadow.

Justice Stalwart walked out into the sunlight, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting allegiances. And somewhere, in the quiet corners of his heart, he wondered if he had made the right choice.

Ciao.

Epilogue: If I was in the Chambers of the court on charges of flying an American flag upside-down and put forward the defense that I had nothing to do with it and it was an act concocted by my spouse on whom I have no control over, I wonder what Justice Stalwart’s viewpoint and decision would be? Not what he passed on himself.

People in high places think that they can get away with any misdemeanors of ethical or moral issues. Do they really think that people hold a shred of belief in cockamamie stories they tell to justify their unethical behavior?

The employees of the United States federal service (the Executive Branch) have to take an ethics training once a year and are told that they cannot receive a gift exceeding in value above $20, and if they do, they could be fired for breaking the law. The same rule either does not apply to the members of the legislative and judiciary branches or they know that they can get away with.

The double standards want to make us, the common citizens, simmer in a silent rage.

The words I write, are they poems?

 

Today afternoon
in the afterglow of making love
as my hands fiddled with
with stubborn locks in your hairs,
you had asked -
why I scribble
seemingly random words
that often break the rules
      of elementary grammar
and call them, well,
      poems?

How long, you wondered,
      will they live
before getting thrown
in the dustbins of time.

You got me thinking,
why do I, indeed?

I mulled over the question
rest of afternoon, and then…

…over the dinner spoke
ending up
      in the dustbins of time
      is okay;
what matters more
is that the words I write
are the white pills of sanity
to rescue my mind
from the headwinds of
      existential angst.

They help me sleep
      through the night
and to be with you
      during the day
so I can play
with those stubborn locks
in your hair.

You smiled, reached out
pinched my cheeks
and word, they were okay.

The reason I see and hear what I see and hear

 

Sometimes asking God for a reason for something is like asking Him why the sky is blue. There is a complex, scientific reason for it, Claire, but most children, including you, are content with knowing it is blue because it is — Susan Meissner (Why the Sky Is Blue)

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

In the previous post I discussed how my senses can only perceive a small fraction of what exists. I can only see only 0.0035% of the electromagnetic spectrum between 380 nanometers (nm) (violet) to about 750 nanometers (nm) (red) and can hear compression (or longitudinal) waves that travel through the air and have frequency between 20Hz to 20,000 Hz. My range of hearing and vision being limited does not mean that there are no electromagnetic and compression waves beyond the limits of my perception. It just means that anything happening out there which falls outside the range of my sensory physiology does not get registered.

Right now, there are worlds beyond the reach of my perception of which I am not aware.

I am oblivious to much that goes around me. I am continuously flooded by electromagnetic waves to which I am not aware. Similarly, there are sound waves continuously passing by, wavelengths of which are beyond my auditory capabilities. The same sound waves, however, are picked up by the dogs taking their evening stroll with their owners on the sidewalk and occasionally their ears perk up as if they are listening to some melodious symphony that is not accessible to me.

Why is it that I can see and hear only a fraction of what is going on out there? It is not by random chance that I, as part of the human race, was blessed with this sensory range, perhaps when the world was created. Is there someone out there divvying up frequencies of spectrums like the FCC does?

The reason for my physiology being what it is has an explanation that traces back to the environment in which my ancestors, and more broadly, life on Earth, evolved.

The BLUF (Bottom Line Up Front) is that the range of wavelengths to which our vision and auditory physiology is sensitive is the result of an interplay between environmental conditions and the principles of natural selection, which work to increase our chances for survival and reproduction.

To understand the range of the electromagnetic spectrum I can perceive, the starting point is the radiation that the Sun emits. For every living thing on Earth that requires energy to maintain its biological functions, the source of that energy, directly or indirectly, is the Sun.

Plants, through photosynthesis, convert the Sun’s energy into various nutrients (such as glucose) and byproducts (like oxygen). They accomplish this remarkable transformation using water from their roots, carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, and light energy from the Sun. For my own existence, I depend on the nutrients produced by plants; thus, the origin of my energy source also traces back to the Sun.

The intensity of the Sun’s electromagnetic spectrum is concentrated within a range from about 200 nm (nanometers) (ultraviolet) to about 2000 nm (infrared). It also happens that at the top of the atmosphere, the spectral irradiance of the radiation emitted by the Sun peaks at about 400 nm (violet-to-blue). Additionally, the gaseous composition of Earth’s atmosphere allows a majority of the radiation emitted by the Sun, between 200–750 nm, to pass through. Conversely, radiation in the infrared frequency is largely absorbed by the water vapor in the atmosphere.

The bottom line is that, with the Sun’s radiation being the ultimate source of energy and its spectral irradiance peaking around 400 nm — declining rapidly on the ultraviolet side and tapering more gradually on the red side (but being absorbed in the atmosphere) — it is unsurprising that the majority of life forms on Earth have evolved to capitalize on this specific environmental condition.

This is why the physiology of my eyes has evolved to perceive what we call the visible spectrum (the use of the word visible is not surprising and is self-referential because I am bound by the limits of the language I use to communicate. What else would I call it?).

What about the physiology of my ears? The story there is no different.

Sound waves are compression waves that travel through the air. Their speed and other characteristics, such as how far sound can travel without losing its energy, depend on the air’s density. My auditory range has adapted to the frequencies of sounds most relevant for communication and environmental awareness, thereby increasing the prospects of my survival and reproduction.

The frequency of sound that can be efficiently transmitted is influenced by the medium’s properties through which the wave is traveling, including its density and pressure. The human ear has evolved to be most sensitive to the range of frequencies that travel best under the atmospheric conditions at Earth’s surface.

The frequencies within the human auditory range are those that can travel through the air easily and are more likely to be associated with sounds that have been important for our survival. The process of natural selection has guided human (and other animals’) hearing to adapt to the typical conditions of Earth’s atmosphere, where the density and pressure support the propagation of sound waves most efficiently within the 20Hz to 20,000Hz range.

Thus, it is no coincidence that my eyes and hearing are attuned to seeing and hearing what they are. In the environment where my ancestors lived and the overall biology on Earth evolved, these are the features that increased the chances for survival and reproduction. Attempts to utilize alternative seeing and hearing strategies either did not progress far along the evolutionary path or became relegated to specialized niches (for example, bats using echolocation).

Ultimately, the principles of natural selection, working within the constraints of the environment where the game of survival and reproduction is played, are the invisible forces that have shaped the physiology of my senses.

In some ways, natural selection could be considered a godlike force making me most adept to where I live.

Ciao.

Eternal Approach

Could death’s moment
    mirror Zeno’s paradox?

How exquisite—forever nearing the void,
     yet never gone. 

The worlds beyond my senses

 

Imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, “This is an interesting world I find myself in, an interesting hole I find myself in; fits me rather neatly, doesn’t it? In fact, it fits me staggeringly well! It must have been made to have me in it! — Douglas Adams

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

My senses serve as portals to the universe. They provide my brain with the data using which the brain interprets the world outside of me. Through the signals brought in by my senses, the brain discerns what to savor and what to shun; what to love and what to avoid. Over the years, this process has shaped my preferences and aversions.

What would I call an entity that is completely isolated from the external world (that is, for some reason, it does not ingest any signals from the external world)? What could such an entity conceive and comprehend? What would its comprehension of the external world be like? For that matter, for such an entity, do words like ‘external world’ even hold a meaning.

This inquiry might seem strange (or may sound even absurd), yet in my sleep, floating amidst dreams, I am such an entity. My brain is not processing much of sensory data (for example, related to vision), and yet, devoid of sensory input, some juxtaposition of brain and mind do conjure up brilliant worlds of fantasies.

Among my quintet of senses — vision, hearing, olfaction, tactility, and gustation –the faculties of sight and sound are especially vital for discerning the external world.

Vision, frequently hailed as the most important sense, empowers me to discern forms, hues, and motions. The percepts of vision are crucial for orienting myself in my surroundings, seeking sustenance, identifying friends and adversaries, and, in the current era, for reading a book — thus broadening my perspectives through the wisdom and experiences shared by others.

Hearing allows me to perceive sounds, a sense essential for recognizing the rustling of leaves, engaging in spoken language and communication, appreciating melodies, and heeding the sonic warnings of hazards that lurk in my environment.

As indispensable as my sight and hearing may be, the part of our world that my senses can grasp is small. Beyond the confines of my sensory capabilities, there exist worlds of which I remain utterly unaware of (that is assuming that they are there but are merely beyond the capabilities of my perception). The worlds I am unaware of are far bigger than the ones I comprehend.

The mechanism of my vision involves the transformation of electromagnetic waves into electrical impulses by my retinal cells, which are then relayed to the brain for interpretation. The richness of the world I see has extraordinary details — the blue sky, constantly changing formation of clouds drifting in the wind, the mountain peaks topped with the whiteness of snow, or sometimes a rainbow unfurled across the sky.

And yet, the world I do not see is far bigger than the one I do see. The electromagnetic spectrum encompasses a wide range of wavelengths, from very low-frequency radio waves to high-frequency gamma rays. The entire electromagnetic spectrum includes, in order of increasing wavelength (or decreasing frequency): radio waves, microwaves, infrared radiation, visible light, ultraviolet radiation, X-rays, and gamma rays.

My eyes (and their physiology) can see only an exceedingly small fraction of the electromagnetic spectrum, which (and no surprise) we have named is the visible spectrum (what else would we call it?).

The visible part of the electromagnetic spectrum ranges from about 380 nanometers (nm) (violet color) to about 750 nanometers (nm) (red color) in wavelength and only makes up about 0.0035% of the entire electromagnetic spectrum. So, I am only seeing a tiny sliver of all the electromagnetic spectrum that exists around me. I have no idea what worlds exist in the part of spectrum that I cannot see.

It is inconceivable to think that the only interesting things that are happening in the universe are happening in the fraction of electromagnetic spectrum I can see. That idea would be too self-centric or anthropomorphic.

The range (and story) of our auditory perception is no different. The sounds I hear are compression waves travelling through the air that make our eardrum (or tympanic membrane) vibrate. These vibrations are converted to electrical signals that are sent to the brain for further processing.

The physiology of the human ear is such that it responds to compression waves between 20 Hz and 20,000 Hz (Hertz)and makes me capable of hearing things that vibrate in that range. Like for electromagnetic waves, it does not imply that compression waves do not exist beyond the frequency range of my hearing. They do and physiology of ear in different animals can respond to those waves. The Greater Wax Moth is capable of sensing compression waves at a frequency of 300kHz.

The bottom line is that there is a lot going on out there (or I assume that is so, even if I cannot be sure) of which I am not aware. Who knows what kind of wonders exist in the worlds I cannot see and cannot hear? Is there a world that exists and is beyond my perception, however, is a deeply philosophical question.

A cloud in the sky is visible to me because it reflects the electromagnetic waves coming from the sun in the range of visible spectrum. Are there no other “objects” in the sky that can reflect various parts of electromagnetic towards me, but I am unaware of them. If they do, what would they look like?

At some level, the above sentence is bizarre because I am using words and experiences that are human to discuss what is independent of us, and more so, has never been perceived by our senses. I am trying to augment the world I cannot see or hear into the world I am familiar with, but a moment of reflection tells how absurd the notion is.

Heck for that matter, there may be many more dimensions out there that my senses cannot contact. Perhaps, because of some unintended perturbations, those unknown dimensions leak into the realm I can perceive and after a moment retract themselves back to where they came from. Who knows what else is out there and is beyond the range of my senses.

Do I ever dream of floating through a space that has more than three dimensions? Even if I do, how would my waking self-know.

Ciao.

Note: Electromagnetic and compression waves: The former can travel through empty space while the latter requires the existence of a compressible medium, like air.

We were friends again

 

Sitting in the Ethiopian airline Lounge
      at Addis Ababa
my guest David had wondered
if I were flying
      in Business class.

There was a look on his face
      that comes from sensing
that an injustice
      is being done.

We, after all,
were two peas in pod;
there was nothing elite about us,
so why I am flying Business
while he was not,
      he had wondered.

I put his misgivings aside
and said, no,
I am not flying in Business
but just using a privilege
that came with the Gold status
for living a million mile
of my life
      in the air.

His face relaxed.
He felt at peace.
We were friends again.

Connectedness is an antidote to mortality

 

The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself — Carl Sagan

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

On rare occasions, I receive a gift of connectedness. The trigger could be the upbeat rhythm, or its opposite, the sadness of a song. It could be an aftermath of immersing in moments of creativity, or a gust of cool wind in the middle of summer brushing against the face. It could be an unexpected whiff of sweet fragrance of jasmine, or a chance look at the open spaces stretching to the horizon that is aglow with an orange sunset. It could be a sudden ache of nostalgia of moments gone by and realizing how old I have become and how little time is left there to be lived.

The feeling of connectedness dissolves the invisible boundaries between the self that I am and the rest that is out there. Without the notion of duality I have always lived with, the idea of the destruction of the self after death also dissipates. The fear of mortality, in those ever-fleeting moments, no longer haunts.

After all, what else is the fear of mortality if not the fear of the destruction of the self? The thought that I will no longer be here, but the party will continue without me is the fear and the angst of mortality. I simply wish not to disappear without a trace.

Today, I experienced brief moments of connectedness, and for an instant, the fear of mortality receded once more. In its wake, a question emerged: Could the self I possess be immortal, and is my fear of mortality merely irrational?

At the physical level I am immortal. I am connected with everything else that existed or will exist in space and time.

I, like everything that is out there, is made of the same atoms that originated at the moment of the Big Bang. After death, the atoms of my physical self would be given back to the universe. They would eventually become part of some other form — a rock, a bacterium, a chimpanzee, perhaps another human being.

The principle of conservation of energy provides the foundation for my physical immortality and I have no reason to doubt that I will continue to exist either as matter or as ephemeral energy.

Would my consciousness self also continue to exist beyond the moment of my death? After my death, would I remember what I was and what I accomplished during this lifetime?

As for my conscious self, other than for a few moments when I feel connected with the rest of the universe (and when the sense mortality dissolves), I am not as certain about my immortality.

There is no phenomenological evidence for my immortality. In my current form I do not remember anything what I was prior to taking this form. People pass away and without missing a beat the universe continues on its merry journey. There is nothing to make me think that the same would not happen when I die.

Even if my consciousness is immortal, however, if it does not have any remembrance, then functionally, that immortality is equivalent to being mortal.

For all I know, the awareness of self may have been just an outgrowth of the process of natural selection and is meant to increase my chances for survival and reproduction. The self is nothing more than that and when I die there is nothing left vying for survival and reproduction.

It is only in the rare moments of connectedness that the awareness of self is eliminated. In those moments, the self is no longer the skin I need. But it is also hard to let that skin go and feel naked, and so I hold on to the self and become a mortal again.

Ciao.

Will the universe care?

 

Whether I get up tomorrow
or whether I don’t,
will the universe care?

The answer to that question
I do not know.

I will not be around
looking down
      from above
or will be looking
in the rear view mirror
      at the receding road to check
if someone steps to the podium
to read a eulogy.

What I do know
      is that you
who sleeps next to me
in the wee hours of the morning
with a Mona Lisa smile
spread across the lips
while admiring the colors of
blooming Petunias in your dreams,
will.

Natural Selection and the Stock Market

 

If there are other worlds elsewhere in the universe, I would conjecture they are governed by the same laws of natural selection — Richard Dawkins

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

Three fundamental elements are essential for the emergence of natural selection and evolution: (i) a finite pool of resources, such as energy; (ii) a diverse population capable of replication, ranging from simple self-replicating molecules to complex organisms like humans, with variations in traits within the population affecting resource acquisition efficiency; and (iii) the passage of time.

If one possessed divine powers, simply introducing three core elements would suffice for a complex tapestry of biology on a planet like ours to evolve: limited resources; a replicating population with trait variance; and time. Starting from there, the divine power would sit back and observe the unfolding of evolution.

The relentless pursuit of resources, coupled with the instinct to replicate, would inevitably give rise to increasingly complex and efficient life forms. Over time, this pursuit for efficiency would also catalyze the emergence of consciousness, the development of language for improved communication, and the formation of agrarian societies to support growing resource demands, all aiding in the race to excel over others.

Even at a more fundamental level, the mere presence of finite energy and existence of a primordial chemical mixture sets the stage for the inevitable rise of self-replicating entities, paving the way for the inevitability for the process of natural selection and evolution to occur.

Natural selection, however, extends beyond biological arena. Whenever three specific conditions converge in any domain, the principles of natural selection and evolution will take hold. A contemporary illustration of this is the dynamics of the stock market.

To draw parallels, let us first identify the presence of three essential components in the stock market.

Within the stock market’s framework, the ‘resource’ equates to the discretionary capital held by investors. The ‘population’ consists of diverse companies, each vying for that capital with their unique characteristics (or traits). Time, as always, is plenty.

Similar to biological entities, the primary objective for companies is to ensure their continuity and expansion, which they achieve by securing capital. The biological selection mechanism determining which traits are advantageous is mirrored their effectiveness in drawing investors and their money.

Companies strive to highlight a range of traits to capture investors’ interest and secure funding. These traits include above-average profitability, effective management, promising growth prospects, and investment in innovation to develop new products or enhance existing ones.

It is crucial to understand that the process is self-driven and natural. Individuals have discretionary funds at their disposal, which companies aim to attract. The stock exchange serves as the meeting ground, and that is where the intricate dance of natural selection plays out.

Just as environmental pressures — such as resource scarcity, climatic shifts, the advent of new pathogens, geographical transformations, and alterations in predator-prey relationships — steer the evolution of biological organisms, external factors also influence the evolution of companies. Examples of such changes include the rise of disruptive technologies like Uber, political turmoil that heightens the stock appeal of defense-focused firms, and public sentiment, such as attributing responsibility for climate change to certain corporations. And thus, along the path of evolution, the environmental pressures also evolve and affect which traits will be preferred.

Remarkable parallels exist between the evolutionary processes of organisms and companies, with both driven by the imperative to acquire resources more efficiently, leading to greater complexity with time (I am sure you have heard about complex financial transactions like hedge funds and derivatives). Nonetheless, distinctions between the two also exist.

In the stock market, investors engage in deliberate decision-making (despite the debatable rationality and objectivity of their choices), contrasting with natural selection influencing living organisms, which is an instinctive process shaped entirely by environmental forces.

Another distinction lies in the role of central banks, which actively work to tinker with market conditions and do not let the process of natural selection play out to its full potential. While there may be a natural selection counterpart to this regulatory influence in the present era - human intervention is now a significant factor in the evolution of species - it did not used to be this way.

An additional contrast is the potential for resource (i.e., capital) availability to expand over time for stock markets. 

Despite these differences, there are striking resemblances in the evolution of companies and biological organisms within their respective domains. This is inherently due to the combination of three fundamental elements listed at the beginning, which necessitates such a parallel.

Ciao.