Hace un rato me he encontrado en Facebook con un artículo del New York Times cuyo título me ha llamado la atención: What we can learn from old animals. Tirando del hilo he acabado viendo este vídeo:
I am creating these photographs to gain a deeper understanding about what it means to be mortal and to exorcise my fears of aging. I have come to realize that these images are self-portraits, or at the very least, they are manifestations of my fears and hopes about what I will be like when I am old. My intention is to take an honest and unflinching look at old age and I want these images to inspire others to become aware of and to engage with their own attitudes toward aging and mortality.
I also want my images to inspire greater empathy toward animals, particularly farm animals. It is rare to see a farm animal that has actually lived its natural life span given that most of these animals experience brutality and death early in their lives. By depicting the beauty and dignity of these creatures in their later years, I want to challenge people’s assumptions about these animals and inspire reforms to the treatment of farm animals.
Religion is our first —that's why I'm so fascinated by it—, it's our first version of the truth, is our first attempt as a species, it's what we tried when we didn't know anything. We didn't know we lived on a spherical planet, we didn't know that our planet revolved around the Sun. We didn't know that there were microorganisms that explained disease. We thought diseases came from curses, or witches, or ill-wishing, or devils, or dust devils. We didn't know anything from the childish, terrified, ignorant origins of our animal primate species.
It's also our first attempt at philosophy, our first attempt at morality, our first attempt at healthcare, actually. But, because it was our first it is our worst. We now have better explanations for all these dreads and we have cleared up all these mysteries, yet we still dwell, and in some countries, in some societies, not just dwell, but live under a totalitarian regime that forbids us to think about the progress that has been made or denies us the knowledge that these advances have in fact occured. So it has become, where once it probably was an aid to our survival, a really great peril to our continued ability to live as a civilized species [...].
Christopher Hitchens
We are at the very beginning of time for the human race. It is not unreasonable that we grapple with problems. But there are tens of thousands of years in the future. Our responsibility is to do what we can, learn what we can, improve the solutions, and pass them on. It is our responsibility to leave the people of the future a free hand. In the impetuous youth of humanity, we can make grave errors that can stunt our growth for a long time. This we will do if we say we have the answers now, so young and ignorant as we are. If we suppress all discussion, all criticism, proclaiming “This is the answer, my friends; man is saved!” we will doom humanity for a long time to the chains of authority, confined to the limits of our present imagination. It has been done so many times before.
It is our responsibility as scientists, knowing the great progress which comes from a satisfactory philosophy of ignorance, the great progress which is the fruit of freedom of thought, to proclaim the value of this freedom; to teach how doubt is not to be feared but welcomed and discussed; and to demand this freedom as our duty to all coming generations.
Hoy me he levantado tontorrón, como me pasa cada cierto tiempo. Si hay algún motivo externo para ello, yo aún no lo he encontrado. Pero, como tantas otras veces, sí sé cuál es el remedio y el camino para salir de este estado.
Aunque no sea precisamente la alegría de la huerta, y otras veces me haya cansado enseguida su tono relativamente monocorde (medio en broma, ella misma describe su último disco como: «diez tipos de tristeza»), hoy, mientras Lúa me sacaba de paseo en esta fría mañana mesetaria, su voz y su música me han dado el calorcito que me hacía falta:
[0:01] It's interesting that some people find science so easy and others find it kind of dull and difficult. Specially kids. Some of them just eat it up and I don't know why it is. [F]or instance, lots of people love music, and I never could carry a tune. I lose a great deal of pleasure out of that. And I think people lose a lot of pleasure, who find science dull. In the case of science, one of the things that make it very difficult is it takes a lot of imagination. It's very hard to imagine all the crazy things that things really are like.
[4:13] I find myself trying to imagine all kinds of things all the time. And I get a kick out of it, just like a runner gets a kick out of sweating. I get a kick out of thinking about these things. I can't stop. I could talk forever.
Es un resumen del evento, y se nota porque le falta continuidad, pero me encantó una pequeña maldad que cuenta Richard Dawkins, otro ateo militante y furibundo: cuando Stephen Fry, maestro de ceremonias, habla sobre la cantidad de gente que se preocupaba por la salud de Hitchens y le decía: «I'll pray for you» («Rezaré por usted»), Dawkins imagina que Hitchens respondería: «Thank you. I'll think for you.» («Gracias. Yo pensaré por usted.»)
