Science, Challenge, Comedy

Here come the trite remarks: can you believe it’s April already?! I’m prepared for my

eloquent response: I know, like, time is crazy, like how!? But seriously, how? A part of my brain is still trying to prepare for the year.

These first three months have been, well, on a political level, terrifying, abhorrent, and exhausting. I have no positive spins on the dumpster fires that bombard us daily — the responsibility to bear witness is truly a son-of-a-bitch. You know it’s bad when your ability to remember is outrun by the sheer volume of unprecedented horrors (this is, grossly, by design). My hope, naive or not, remains in believing there’s enough goodness in enough people that will rise up in response (proof point: House Republicans have been told by their party’s leadership to avoid town halls. proof point: Cory Booker).

For me, despair is warded off (or at least kept at bay) through taking action, which frankly I’m still figuring out what that looks like in my current situation. I’ve had discussions with the organization Indivisible East Bay, which I was put in contact with through Climate Changemakers, as I’ve been eager to get more involved locally, eager for a more visceral connection to my community and a greater sense of autonomy over affecting change. I don’t know if this is the right approach. But given the tornado of diarrhea that is our national politics, I’m aiming to be more intentional with my focus and realistic around where I can be helpful. I’ll still sign the petitions, send messages to senators, but I’m trying to not fry my brain with every possible thing. It’s sort of like that writing / life advice from Jia Tolentino I shared in a previous post: I’m trying to focus on the next sentence to avoid becoming paralyzed under the weight of it all (e.g. trying to save democracy on a global scale).

On a personal level, I’m of the more fortunate lot. Things have been pretty good. There’s much to be grateful for with family, friends, work. Being able to state this truth so clearly, directly, not couched in any guilt, means that I can justify the return on investment of my therapists (yes, plural).

Science as a shared social project

Let’s turn back to the vomit cyclone of our current political situation (I’ve hit my quota for positive vibes). One of the things I’ve been thinking about lately is when our politics and culture feel so terribly regressive, what other options do people have to turn to for hope in progress? There’s of course consolation through spiritual and religious practices, but I specifically mean having hope in tangible progress of this world, within our parameters of womb to tomb.

Recently at work I came across this essay released by leads at Google DeepMind: Science is the heart of progress. The title says it all, really. It touches on the importance of reinvigorating society to view science as a shared social project — something that was very alive in the post-WWII era, but has since seemed to have stagnated, or faded even. The question becomes, which I’m paraphrasing below, how we might re-ignite a collective curiosity for scientific discovery as a means of improving our circumstances?

To move from uncertainty-driven caution to a curiosity mindset, the world needs a theory of how to re-invigorate science as a participatory project, and perhaps even put it at the heart of a shared, social story…..If we don't make meaningful progress, the resulting sense of stagnation could erode the optimism and shared sense of possibility that are foundational to our collective values. Advancing science is key to renewing our collective hope for a better future. Future generations should look back and see this as a time when we harnessed AI's potential to reignite our shared sense of curiosity, laying the foundation for an age of greater discovery and human progress.

So, is this grandiose thinking? Or could the promising rise in capabilities of AI to advance science possibly catalyze a renewed hope for scientifically-driven progress? I have no idea. But I do fundamentally believe we’re at an inflection point unlike anything we’ve seen in the past decade. And this has as spurred curiosity in many factions of our culture, as can be seen by the popularity of certain podcasts like Dwarkesh Patel and Lex Fridman (this is not an endorsement of their podcasts, though I do think Dwarkesh is a remarkably gifted interviewer).

And just take a look at some recent headlines:

• NYT: Doctors Told Him He Was Going to Die. Then A.I. Saved His Life.

• WSJ: AI-Powered Databases Boost the Alzheimer’s Drug Discovery Process

• Axios: AI weather forecasting just took a big step forward

People are excited about moving towards a frontier. For awhile, the frontier in Silicon Valley was social media and dating apps. I’m not implying AI is somehow inherently more virtuous — the risks run from the mundane to existential — but the possibility for profoundly beneficial applications of this technology are much greater.

When I was younger, I didn’t even think about the potential of being able to somehow contribute to the “shared social project of science” — despite admirable attempts from my 50-going-on-90 year old chemistry teacher Mr. Elfman. This was likely due to my own limitations. The subject felt confined to a textbook — abstract information that needed to be memorized, rather than tools for discovery solutions to society’s greatest problems. My hope would be that younger generations feel a greater sense of agency and opportunity than I did.

This all may be naive optimism, and I don’t think of science as some cure-all (we’ve got a lot, A LOT of work to be done emotionally, socially, culturally). But it just feels good to try and place your hope in something when oh so much feels bleak.

Now unfortunately, I’m stating this at a time when we’re witnessing a terrible pull back in funding of science. It’s idiotic and I don’t understand how cancer research became politicized. It can feel like we’re fragmented beyond repair. Sometimes the only thing I can imagine for any shared value is agreeing that carbs taste good. But even then, sourdough is probably somehow woke.

Challenge as a route to meaning

Life-advice can be a vice — you get high on the possibility of ascendance, followed by a humbling comedown to reality. I have a habit of over-consuming, so I digest in moderation.

But every now and then I’m glad I take the bait and stumble across advice where the value is in the questions it spurs, rather than any guidance to strictly follow. David Brooks recent op-ed resonated in this particularly way: A Surprising Route to the Best Life Possible. He had me at the title, of course.

The gist of the piece is sort of a more humane take on the no pain, no gain philosophy. The things we value most, Brooks argues, are often the things that are hardest to do. So what’s important are the perseverance and determination to continually keep showing up, on a regular basis, while accepting that the important stuff will always feel challenging — a difficulty to be embraced, not avoided.

From this perspective, we’re not just hedonistic creatures chasing pleasure and avoiding pain. We want to apply ourselves to whatever we deem meaningful (e.g. a scientific challenge, an art project, raising children, supporting a cause, helping out your neighbor). This is summed up well in a reference to a quote from psychologist Carol Dweck:

Effort is one of the things that gives meaning to life. Effort means that you care about something.

And followed by Brooks:

Whenever you’re seeking improvement, you’re putting yourself on the edge of your abilities, on the hazardous cliff edge of life, and a little built-in thrill accompanies each accomplishment.

But all this shouldn’t be confused with an addictive, compulsive, frenetic approach to self-improvement — or worse, the toxic push-yourself-to-extreme dogma of the David Goggins types. Because what initiates (and then sustains) this particular form of effort is the power of being seized by something meaningful — which requires the capacity to recognize an area of life that resonates deeply and calls for dedication in moving towards the uncomfortable unknown.

Brooks continues:

We want to be in love — with callings, projects, and people. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference, and indifference is an absolutely terrible state to endure. I guess there are some people who have earned the right to want contentment above all, to sit back and enjoy whatever prosperity they’ve achieved. But I rarely meet such people, even people in retirement

Well, this I’m not so sure. We want to be in love, yes. But I mean, if you asked people to name someone who is the opposite of love they’d probably say Hitler — who definitely not indifferent and clearly seized by a sense of purpose that happened to be really, really, really bad. So, I think Brooks gets this wrong. A better positioning would be to view indifference as the opposite of vitality. And I agree with the insight that vitality is cultivated through sustained action and intention.

But here’s another rub I have with this genre of advice: it often frames now as not enough. It can become a form of striving run amok, a Sisyphean pursuit that causes us to overlook the goodness that is already here. We can turn to that cheery philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer to explain:

All striving comes from lack, from a dissatisfaction with one's condition, and is thus suffering as long as it is not satisfied; but no satisfaction is lasting; instead, it is only the beginning of a new striving. We see striving everywhere inhibited in many ways, struggling everywhere; and thus always suffering; there is no final goal of striving, and therefore no bounds or end to suffering.

So, I guess, we try and find joy (or at least humor) in the struggle, no?

Comic impulse

To that point, I think comedy is one of the highest and most important art forms. And I don’t mean comedy as defined by a hot-topic-wearing ego-clown with daddy-issues.

I’ve been sporadically reading Steve Almond’s book on writing (Truth is the Arrow, Mercy is the Bow) which I find to be filled with insight, humor, and accessible guidance on how to tell stories.

He has a section dedicated to understanding the comic impulse, and the profound importance of humor’s cathartic capabilities of healing our hearts and minds. I found his descriptions to be delightful, beautiful, imperative reminders about how much we need humor during these times — so I’ve pulled out some of my favorites below:

The comic impulse arises directly from our efforts to contend with tragedy. It is the safest and most effective way to acknowledge our circumstances without being crushed by them.

The comic impulse allows us to confront our sins (personal, cultural, historical) and thereby make moral progress. It does so by granting us a license to traffic in the transgressive. Something is funny, most of all, because it’s true and because the velocity of insight as to this truth exceeds our normal standards.

Comedy is produced by a determined confrontation with a set of feeling states that are tragic in nature: grief, shame, disappointment, physical discomfort, anxiety, moral outrage. Something is funny because it offers a temporary reprieve from the hardship of seeing the world as it actually is, or because we are offered a shocking clarity as to the true nature of our lives.

Comedy is rooted in this capacity to face painful truths and to offer, by means of laughter, a dividend of forgiveness.

As is too often said: we laugh to keep from crying.

A closing quote

No matter how mundane some action might appear, keep at it long enough and it becomes a contemplative even meditative act. - Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

A parting song

I’m taking a songwriting course taught by Laura Marling (more to be shared in future entries). Through this process I’ve been revisiting some of her music, and found myself transfixed by her song For You. It’s a simple love song, with enough edge to not feel sentimental, and plenty of beauty with that gifted voice and talent for melody.