The Philosopher and the Wolf: Lessons from the Wild on Love, Death and Happiness by Mark RowlandsI reviewed this for Augment's MAD news (Monthly Augment Deliberation):
The truth is, I suppose, that I’ve always been a natural misanthrope’: A misanthrope is defined as a ‘hater of humans’, Rowlands prefers the company of his wolf Brenin, and dogs Nina and Tess. It seems impossible that a book written by such a man can give any positive information about the advanced apes that we are. And indeed his accounts of what makes apes different from other animals are very bleak, identifying in us ‘the tendency to base relationships with other on a single principle, invariant and unyielding: what can you do for me, and how much will it cost me to get you to do it?’. Rowlands demonstrates how our ‘finer’ qualities such as love and joy are not unique and we tend to base our assessments of animal intelligence on our terms: ‘they are poor only in the way we measure things’. We are creatures that tend to define ourselves by what we do and have rather than what we are, we see the world ‘as a collection of resources; things to be used for its purposes’. We tend to view love and happiness as feelings that we pursue with desperation, but I agree with Rowlands in his view that they are the byproduct of those moments in our life that may not always be pleasant but of which you can be proud, when you did something for the first time, when you stood up when something was unjust. This is empowering.
Here is Rowlands talking about he the subject of moments:
‘Moments, for us, are transparent. They are what we reach through when we try to take possession of things.’, ‘
For us, no moment is ever complete in itself. Every moment is adulterated, tainted by what we remember has been and what we anticipate will be.’
‘Anything we can have, anything we can possess, time will take it from us. But what time can never take from us is who we were in our best moments.’
Rowlands says ‘In saying that the meaning of the life is to be found in moments, I am not repeating those facile little homilies that entreat us to ‘live in the moment’. I would never recommend trying to do something that is impossible.’ But I disagree. It’s not impossible. The main avenue I use is mindfulness in which meditation is used to create awareness of the moment and the ability to stop the ‘chattering ape’, the endless stream of thoughts and feelings that intrude. My cats and my young child draw me into the moment, losing myself in a purring bundle of alpha waves or daughter’s fascination with a single leaf. There are ways to get round the worst of what we can be, but it isn’t easy.
The truth is, I suppose, that I’ve always been a natural misanthrope’: A misanthrope is defined as a ‘hater of humans’, Rowlands prefers the company of his wolf Brenin, and dogs Nina and Tess. It seems impossible that a book written by such a man can give any positive information about the advanced apes that we are. And indeed his accounts of what makes apes different from other animals are very bleak, identifying in us ‘the tendency to base relationships with other on a single principle, invariant and unyielding: what can you do for me, and how much will it cost me to get you to do it?’. Rowlands demonstrates how our ‘finer’ qualities such as love and joy are not unique and we tend to base our assessments of animal intelligence on our terms: ‘they are poor only in the way we measure things’. We are creatures that tend to define ourselves by what we do and have rather than what we are, we see the world ‘as a collection of resources; things to be used for its purposes’. We tend to view love and happiness as feelings that we pursue with desperation, but I agree with Rowlands in his view that they are the byproduct of those moments in our life that may not always be pleasant but of which you can be proud, when you did something for the first time, when you stood up when something was unjust. This is empowering.
Here is Rowlands talking about he the subject of moments:
‘Moments, for us, are transparent. They are what we reach through when we try to take possession of things.’, ‘
For us, no moment is ever complete in itself. Every moment is adulterated, tainted by what we remember has been and what we anticipate will be.’
‘Anything we can have, anything we can possess, time will take it from us. But what time can never take from us is who we were in our best moments.’
Rowlands says ‘In saying that the meaning of the life is to be found in moments, I am not repeating those facile little homilies that entreat us to ‘live in the moment’. I would never recommend trying to do something that is impossible.’ But I disagree. It’s not impossible. The main avenue I use is mindfulness in which meditation is used to create awareness of the moment and the ability to stop the ‘chattering ape’, the endless stream of thoughts and feelings that intrude. My cats and my young child draw me into the moment, losing myself in a purring bundle of alpha waves or daughter’s fascination with a single leaf. There are ways to get round the worst of what we can be, but it isn’t easy.
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