The Endgame

Newsletter #95 - Nothing to see here

Toronto, February 2, 2025

Nothing to see here

Sometimes an Endgame topic easily pops into my head and off I go, typing away. Other weeks I struggle to come up with something to write about and wonder if the whole Endgame project should be abandoned. I don’t want to let you down by writing rubbish.

I recall hearing about a letter (perhaps apochryphal) to the editor of The Times, which went something like this: “Sir: This morning I wrote you an angry letter about attempts to ban fox hunting in England. After reading the finished letter, I threw it into the waste basket. Hoping this meets with your approval, I remain, sir, your faithful servant, Col. R. Smuthers.” The great novelist Paul Auster once described a work day, at the end of which he chucked everything he had written that day into the garbage can, as an “excellent, productive day.” Sometimes throwing stuff away is the most creative thing you can do.

Recently I stumbled across the phrase, “Be a good ancestor.” Ah, I thought, that might be a promising newsletter topic. Let’s look into it. The exhortation seems to have been kicking around for a while, but it was new to me. There’s a children’s book with that title, described by the publisher this way: “Rooted in Indigenous teachings, this stunning picture book encourages readers of all ages to consider the ways in which they live in connection to the world around them and to think deeply about their behaviors. ... Be a good ancestor to the world around you.” There’s a book for adults called The Good Ancestor which advocates long-term thinking: “From the pyramids to the NHS, humankind has always had the innate ability to plan for posterity and take action that will resonate for decades, centuries, even millennia to come. If we want to be good ancestors and be remembered well by the generations who follow us, now is the time to recover and enrich this imaginative skill.”

As I read these blurbs, I was overcome by a great weariness. Too many adjectives and hortatory verbs. Another vapid big idea. Nothing to see here, folks, move along.

Everyone complains about misinformation and disinformation. Forget the prefixes. I’m worried about information, pouring in over the digital transom, followed by a trailing cascade of opinion. So-called information, about everything and anything, is delivered instantly and constantly by ubiquitous screens. Meanwhile, faute de mieux, traditional newspapers fill up their print pages with endless opinion.

How do we make sense of it all? The seething mess of information and opinion can only be sorted out by big ideas. Big ideas—the best of them—organize, analyze, and integrate opinions and information, and allow you to make your own judgements.

Big ideas can be good, bad, or useless. A good big idea might help us better understand the cosmos. A bad big idea might send armies marching across borders. A useless big idea—there are many, e.g., “be a good ancestor”—sows confusion and wastes time. Of course, it can be hard to know whether a big idea is good, bad, or useless. Aye, there’s the rub (Hamlet again—he’s hard to avoid). The criteria are elusive. Where is the meta-concept?

When I had a house in the country, I would sometimes look out of the window on a summer’s day and see a rabbit grazing on the grass, periodically hopping from one patch to another in search of something tastier and better. I sometimes see myself as a sort of ideas rabbit, trying to make sense of one idea, then getting bored, or frustrated by my inability to figure it out or judge its worth, and hopping on to something else, something that might be tastier and better.

Okay, call me a dilettante. The Portugese writer Fernando Pessoa wrote, “I’m an ardent and inconsequential dilettante in everything. My soul is too weak to sustain the force of its own enthusiasm.” (The Book of Disquiet)

*****

Some reader comments on Newsletter #94 (“Three generations and a bunch of birds”)

From a friend and neighbour: “I loved your piece about 3 generations and Costa Rica, especially, as you might guess, your life list. Sure beats Crow, Robin, Flicker, but I love them too.”

From someone who lives by the sea in Nova Scotia: “In a climate less clement than the one you are in I saw a snow goose. It was hanging out with the Canada Geese. Beautiful and moving.”

From a baby boomer: “My cousin in Detroit is married to a woman named Rosie and I took a screenshot of your granddaughter in the rainforest to send to him. I hope you don’t mind as I think they will get a kick out of it. I’m 78 and accept the designation of baby boomer. Having baby in it makes me feel young!”

What are we going to do about David Wolinsky, who sends this comment: “You travelled thousands of miles to an expensive first class resort with your daughter and granddaughter and then left the joy of their company, delicious fruit cocktails, and great food to trek through a rainforest in pursuit of flying turd buckets whose sole goal in life is to crap on your head when you’re not looking.”

Finally, praise is always welcome: “Oh my, love this article, love the photos and I love those birds! Thank you for sharing your thoughts in your unique and funny style as always. I’ve missed you these past few weeks. Now I feel all is right in my world again.”