Why Communities Are Alive

Organisms are alive, cells are alive and bacteria are alive. All of these are vital “levels” of life, without which neither the highest level (the organism in this case) nor the lowest level (the bacteria in this case), would be able to survive. Complex connections are linking these levels together, in such a way that it has proven to be impossible for philosophers of science to reduce the higher levels (the level of the organism) to the lower levels (the level of cells and neurons). The linkages are there but they are just too complex to be caught in neat and true “law-like” laws. But when looking at these different levels of life, doesn’t there to be something one? Wouldn’t it be logical to have another level called “communities” after the sequence of levels of bacteria, cells and organisms? Just like there are “communities” of bacteria and “communities” of cells that work together in keeping alive the higher level of the organism, so can collections of organisms instantiate the live of a higher level “community”, can’t they? Let’s take a look at why the latter could be a reasonable extension of the “levels of life”.

What set bacteria, cells and organisms apart from communities? Looking at the biological structure of these entities doesn’t immediately provide us with a satisfactory answer. After all, bacteria, cells and organisms differ hugely in their internal biological organization. While organisms got organs keeping them alive, cells and bacteria don’t have “things” that can reasonably be labeled hearts or kidneys. Sure, cells got “organic units” (mitochondria, ribosomes, cellulose etc.) that on a certain level of abstraction could be compared to organisms’ organs. But, wouldn’t this be a level of abstraction in which communities, with its “organs” of power plants, libraries and transportation companies, might fit in as well. So a look at the anatomical structure of these levels might not solve the problem.

Another argument could be that – in contrast to communities – bacteria, cells and organisms are much more “coherent” units, much more dependent on each of its parts for staying alive than communities are. To put it crudely: if you rip a heart out of an organism’s body, it will die. And if you tear apart an organism’s stomach, it will (after a while) die. But don’t communities, on an abstract level, work pretty much the same? Aren’t communities also dependent upon its “organs” (read: power plants, libraries and transportation companies etc.) to stay “alive”? One could claim that the functioning of communities would be severely disrupted if one of these “organs” fails. For example, what kind of community would a “community” without its “organ” of agriculture be? A community without agriculture would turn the the “community” into a system that is functioning entirely different from the one including the agriculture. Or what about a community without law and public servants enforcing this law? That would surely create a “community” that is different from our “normal” conception of a community, wouldn’t it? And if so, wouldn’t that imply that the original community has stopped functioning or, to put it differently, has died?

But what about the “whole” community being dependent upon each of its “organs” in order for it to be able to function adequately? Isn’t it something different for a kidney to be ripped out of an organism, than it is for agriculture to be ripped out of a community? Well, I think it is not. For example, if the “organ” of law would fall away, chaos will ensue and a Hobbesian state of nature might begin. Therefore you could say that the structure or the coherence the collection of individuals had before the law was “removed” is gone, and that because of that the entity (read: that community) has died.

But what do you think?

Quantity versus Quality: Which One to Choose?

Quantity versus quality; an everlasting trade-off. The “system” in which this tradeoff is most prevalent is our economic system. You are more or less forced to specialize yourself because no-one wants a mediocre plumber who also happens to be a mediocre tennis coach, blogger and husband. No; we want the best plumber; the best tennis coach and the best blogger. But what if you want to do it all? What if you want to be a plumber, tennis coach etc…..What then? Then you have to make a decision; you want to do it all “a little” or you want to do one thing “good”. But is this a fair dichotomy? Is it really true that when you are engaged in more than one hobby, profession or relationship, you cannot be good in a particular “instance” of these “categories”? Can’t there be a sense of complementarity? A sense of “1 + 1 = 3”? Maybe…let’s take a look at why this could be the case.

What if being a plumber, philosopher and husband would make you better in each one of these “fields”; that is, better in each one of these fields than you would be if you wouldn’t be involved in these three activities “at the same time”? Could that be so? Well, for the philosopher and husband it might be rather easy to see the “benefits” of also being a plumber: it will make you more social, it will give you an idea of “how a day in the life of an ordinary man” would look like and it could make you more respectful towards others fulfilling likewise jobs. But what about the plumber? Would he be better of by being a philosopher as well? Well that “depends” – although I hate this word – on how you define “plumber”. Is “plumber” merely the profession of the man, or is the “plumber” the man itself? If it were the latter, it should be clear why the plumber would benefit from studying philosophy: it would (very likely) make him a more “reasonable” person; more respectful towards the ideas of others. But regarding the former; would he also become better at doing his plumbing job? Well, it doesn’t make him any worse at doing it, right? But that’s not a fair response. However, the real question should be: would he have become a better plumber by “more plumbing” or instead of reading Plato? Well, maybe at first he will be “better off” plumbing more; that is, until the “marginal utility” in “plumbing more” would become less than the “marginal utility” of reading philosophy; which is something that – given “the law of diminishing marginal utility” – will inevitably happen.

But this example of “the plumber” can also be applied to other matters in life; after all, it doesn’t make sense to keep on focusing on one specific area if there are still so many other areas to discover while knowing that gaining in these other areas is easier – see the “learning curve” – than gaining in only one area. Thus, in order to become a person with a high “overall utility” – which is the utility indicating “how good of a person you are” – you have to expand your “intellectual” – and other – horizons.

The “fun” thing is that this logic of “learning curves” and “diminishing marginal utilities” can be applied to pretty much every activity in life. An example? Well, I could have decided – as I did when I started this blog – to write one “very decent” article per day. However, I felt I could contribute more “utility” by “tapping into my creative source” and just let it flow out of me, like diarrhea from a sick person. And if that means that the articles would become a little shorter; who cares?

So; quantity or quality? Which one to pick?