History is a constructed narrative. In the better cases, there is a core set of facts, that more or less correspond to events that have taken place. For example, it is quite likely, that sometime in autumn of 1492 three sailing ships, the Santa Maria, the Santa Clara, and another nicknamed Pinta (real name not known) reached San Salvador island in the Bahamas. But what is the meaning of this fact?

History is the story, written around the facts, interpreting the facts, giving them meaning. It is this constructed story, that then starts to control the thinking of the people who hold this history as the true history. Was Cristopher Columbus a bold discoverer, a Christ-bearer, a scientist, who discovered America for Europe? Was he a fool of a seaman, believing to his last days, that he had sailed to the Far East? Was he a brutal coloniser, responsible for the genocide of indigenous peoples? At different times, he has been all of those things. It is the constructed narrative around the facts, that gives facts their meaning. When this narrative is changed, re-written, it alters the thinking, but also political and military decisions of the people who learn and retell this version of history. Rewriting history is a known tool for winners of wars and occupiers of countries.

What if we invented a completely fictional “history”? Clearly, people would perceive that it is fiction, not an account of actual events. How about if we used accepted facts as the basis and then invented a fictional “history” around those facts? Naturally, people would still be able to tell fact and fiction apart. They would, right…?

After World War II, Soviet Union liberated Eastern European countries from nazism. After World War II, Soviet Union forcefully occupied Eastern European countries. Aristotle said, that two contradictory propositions cannot both be true in the same sense at the same time. And yet. There are a hundred million people who know, that only one of the two sentences in the beginning of this paragraph is true. Problem is, there are a hundred million people who know exactly the opposite.

Eco’s semiotic grandstanding aside, this, for me, is the core of the Pendulum. Inventing a narrative of a plan of the Knights Templar, loosely based on established facts. To be clear, the core is not the plan itself, it is the story of inventing the plan, and of the characters creating the plan. In the end, the constructed history (but isn’t all history constructed?) becomes almost a self-fulfilling prophecy, because the people who believe it to be true act it out to harrowing consequences.

On the grandstanding note, there were whole pages of this book (yes, I read it on actual physical paper) that I read diagonally simply because reference upon reference upon reference simply for the pleasure of the glass bead game of it was disappointing. Why flex it…

I think the storyline is a great illustration of why most people need to be kept on a need to know basis. Once you hear, you cannot unhear. Once people with access to publishing have published (printing press in the past, social media in the present), many people start believing in what was published. They then act upon it and by acting upon it, make it real. Even though it might originally have been a flight of fancy. After all, god created everything with nothing but words. So can man, and we should be wary.

Other books I have read this year include Hervé le Tellier’s “The Anomaly”, “The Book of Doors” by Gareth Brown, “The Sparrow” by Mary Doria Russell, Peter Watts’s “Blindsight” and Alex Gino’s “Melissa”. I’ve enjoyed them all, some were almost great, but none has been extraordinary. And neither, I’m sad to say, was the Pendulum.

As I am writing these lines, humanity as of yet does not know, whether the giant gaseous planets in our solar system have a solid, rocky core deep inside or not. Planetary formation models seem to indicate, that they could have them. And while living in the atmosphere of the planet has not been talked about regarding Jupiter, the clear role model for the planet Nasqueron of the novel, it has been talked about regarding Venus.

For the ancients, gods were planets and planets were gods and Venus the goddess was a svelte enchantress. Venus the planet, however, is toxic and deadly. None of the spacecraft we have managed to land there have lasted very long. We will try again soon, but for a human to ever step on Venusian surface seems highly unlikely. On the other hand, higher up in the atmosphere of Venus, the weather is fine, temperatures are moderate and the environment is survivable for human visitors. Some people have gone as far as suggesting that a permanent human base in Venusian atmosphere might be possible some day.

That’s Nasqueron – a gas giant (modelled on Jupiter) with an atmosphere that’s liveable (modelled on Venus). The author even does a hat tip to Jupiter in the book, mentioning that the dwellers, inhabitants of Nasqueron, have visited or maintain a remote outpost in Jovian atmosphere in our system. So, while definitely fiction in every way, the basic premise is scientifically plausible. Life could exist in certain atmospheric layers of planets, the solid surfaces of which, if they even have them, are uninhabitable. This idea was the first reason I picked this book from the Hugo Award nominations list (it did not win) and the book did not disappoint. I enjoyed playing the mental what-if games with the author around that premise. Describing how the dwellers live in the gaseous layers of Nasqueron is, nevertheless, a topic that the author keeps coming back to again and again.

The other reason for picking the book was the description of some species in the Universe as quick and others as slow. Many times have I stood, looking at a tree or a rock, thinking how it might perceive me and realising that it probably doesn’t Not any more than I perceive individual atoms. The gap in the speeds of our existence is simply too great. It’s this idea, that Banks is playing around with in the Algebraist. He gives his species the ability to sync up, for the quick (like humans) to become slow seers and for the slow (like dwellers) to speed up. In our daily existence, there is no hope for a human, with a lifespan of 80-some years and the ability to stand still next to a rock for a tiny fraction of that, to ever become perceptible to a rock millions of years old. We’re simply buzzing around too fast for it to notice. Here today, gone tomorrow. But if we could slow down and sync up … I find this idea fascinating.

The rest of the book is more or less science fiction standard. Space ships, wormholes and laser battles. Main storyline is not super special. Maybe I expected more alien algebra. Maybe I’ve read multiverse-explaining Three Body Problem too recently. Anyway, it wasn’t the story that drew me into this book. It was those two ideas above.

#õpetaja / teaching

#ilukirjandus / fiction

#juhtimine / management

#argument / argumentation

#kogemuslugu / review

#tehnoloogia / tech

#ratas / bicycle

#olemine / be-and-go

#kõnekunst / art of communication

#English

See link below post for English text.

Tehisintellekt ja infotehnoloogia laiemalt ei ole väärtusneutraalsed. Hiina valitsejate käes muutuvad need kodanikuõiguste vastu suunatud relvaks, Pariisi linnavalitsuses aga demokraatiat edendavaks tööriistaks, kuid olemuslikult on IT antidemokraatlik. Tänapäeva noored peavad välja mõtlema, kuidas sellest olemusest nutikalt mööda hiilida, kui me tahame demokraatiat hoida.

Õpetan gümnaasiumis kõne ja väitluse valikainet. Paljudel õpilastel on viimase aasta jooksul tekkinud usk keelemudelitesse[1]. Kui küsida neilt küsimus või püstitada probleem, toksitakse see ChatGPT aknasse ja loetakse sealt ette vastus, uskudes, et see ongi parim lahendus.

Tegelikult ei saa ChatGPT meie eest probleeme lahendada, rääkimata demokraatlikust otsustamisest. Seda kahel põhjusel. Esiteks on see liiga rumal. Niisama lobisemiseks või ehk mõne lühema teksti koostamiseks on see tore vahend, aga kes on proovinud selle abil mingitki tõsisemat tööd teha, on kiiresti kohtunud tehismitteintelligentsusega. Mul on vaja sageli toimetada transkribeeritud tekste loetavamaks. Olen koostanud ChatGPT töökäsu (ingl prompt), mis sisaldab kuut toimetamisreeglit. Tulemusi vaadates näen sageli, et mõnda reeglit ei ole järgitud. Kui sellele tähelepanu juhin, saan ilusa vabanduse ja uue tulemi, kus mõnikord on kõiki reegleid järgitud, mõnikord on aga ka uuel katsel jäänud mõni reeglitest järgimata.

Kui keegi tahab lihtsamaid näiteid, siis minu avalikul FB-seinal on viimasest ajast mitu näidet, kus ChatGPT ei saanud hakkama ei viieaastastele lastele mõeldud mõttemängu lahendamisega (kohe üldse ei saanud hakkama) või soovitas nelja legoklotsi ühendamise ülesande puhul pöörduda mõne eksperdi poole. Küllap tehisintellekti arendatakse kiiresti edasi, aga praegused mudelid on liiga rumalad, et demokraatiat nende kätte usaldada.

Teine, palju olulisem põhjus on veel. Infotehnoloogia on kiire – info töötlemises ja edastamises palju kiirem kui inimesed. Mida tehnoloogilisemaks muutub ühiskond, seda kiiremaks kerib elutempo. Eile Amazonis ringi vaadates nägin, et Neil deGrasse Tyson on kirjutanud raamatu „Astrophysics for Young People in a Hurry“. Ta on asjast õigesti aru saanud, sest noortel on kiire. Keskkond on ülestimuleeriv, ilmajäämishirm tõukab tagant ja konkurents näib tihe. Selline pöörane tempo ilmneb igal pool, mitte ainult noorte elus, kuigi noored ja nende veel kaitsemehhanismideta vaimne tervis saab ehk suurima löögi.

Kas olete märganud, et kui füüsilistele koosolekutele tulid inimesed 5–7 minutit varem, võtsid kohvi ja istusid maha, siis nüüd, e-koosolekute ajastul liitutakse koosolekuga täpselt, viimastel sekunditel? Peamiselt lükkab tehnoloogia elu kiirust tagant siiski rahaturgude ja uudisvoo kaudu. Info liigub ümber planeedi valguskiirusel ja rahaturud, kus kauplemispõrand on ammu kinni pandud, reageerivad algoritmiliselt reaalajas. See kiirus kiirgub laiali kõikidesse teistesse valdkondadesse.

Probleem on selles, et demokraatia ei ole kiire. Uudisvoog ja rahaturud suruvad ka riike ja valitsusi kiiresti otsustama, kiiresti reageerima. Demokraatia vajab aga mõtlemist, arutelu, kaasamist ning see ei toimu kiiresti. Kui meid sunnitakse kiirustama, lülitume oma vähemintelligentsetele otsustusprotsessidele, nagu Nobeli preemia laureaat Daniel Kahneman väga hästi oma raamatus „Kiire ja aeglane mõtlemine“ tõestas.

Käisin eelmisel aastal ühel konverentsil, kus tuntud Eesti tehnoloogiaettevõtja rääkis uhkusega sellest, kui kiiresti loodi Eestis krüptoraha regulatsioon. Mulle tundub, et kiirus ei tohiks seaduste loomisel olla kriteeriumiks. Seevastu Mudel-Eesti SA, mis viimati tõi noored jaanuaris kaheks päevaks kokku, et õppida ja harjutada demokraatia toimemehhanisme, on õigel teel. Demokraatia ei ole midagi, mida saad oma nutiseadme ekraanil näpuga äpis lohistades ülikiiresti ära korraldada. See vajab mõtlemist, aega, argumente ja arutelusid.

Kuid tehnoloogiline maailm ning sellega järjest rohkem kohanenud ja selles üles kasvanud inimesed nõuavad oma. Seal, kus niinimetatud vana demokraatia tundub liiga aeglane, otsitakse võimalusi sellest mööda minna. Näiteks tekivad mitmesugused hääletamisäpid, nagu VoteMe. Ühel argumendioskuste koolitusel, mida hiljuti läbi viisin, agiteeris osaleja arutlemise asemel mitu korda: „Mis siin rääkida, teeme demokraatlikult ja hääletame!“ Hääletamine on kiire. Seda saab teha ekraanil. See ei ole demokraatia, valesti tehtuna on see enamuse türannia. Hääletamine võib olla osa demokraatlikust protsessist, kuid see ei asenda demokraatia tuuma, milleks on inimese mõtlemine. Kõigepealt peab igaüks ise ühiskonna probleemide üle mõtlema, siis teistega koos mõtlema ja arutlema, kuulates eri huvipoolte, enamuse ja vähemuse argumente, ning alles seejärel võib hääletada.

Eestis on praegu demokraatiaga hästi. Meil toimuvad rahvakogud, näiteks läheneb rohelise pealinna rahvakogu. Inimesed kasutavad aktiivselt rahvaalgatuse õigust ja osalevad kaasava eelarve protsessides. Eesti Väitlusselts õpetab paljudes koolides noortele argumenteerimis- ja väitlusoskuseid. Meediavabaduse indeks on kõrge. Avatud Eesti Fond toetab avatud ühiskonda. Meil on CitizenOS, arvamusfestival, democracy.ee, koostöökogu ja paljud teised.

Maailmas on demokraatial aga vesi ahjus. Tehnoloogia on kiire ja ühiskonna elutempo kasvab. Demokraatia oma praegusel kujul on aeglane ning see lõhe süveneb. Mõõdikud ja indeksid[2] kõnelevad selget keelt, et üha rohkem riike on üha vähem demokraatlikud ja nii juba üle kümne aasta järjest. Just lugesin ja rõõmustasin demokraatiat pooldavate meeleavalduste üle Poolas. See on väga palju parem võrreldes Ungari või mõne teise riigiga, kus rahvas laseb ilma reageerimata valitsejatel demokraatia usurpeerida, kuid araabia kevad näitas kahjuks, et rahutuste küüsis vaevleva riigi pööramine demokraatia teele on üks asi, selle kursi hoidmine aga midagi sootuks raskemat.

Ma ei vastanda demokraatiat ja tehnoloogiat. Tahan elada maailmas, kus mul on mõlemad. Nii tehisintellektil kui ka muul infotehnoloogial on tuleviku avatud ühiskondades oluline roll kogukondade ja ühiskonna juhtimisel. Demokraatia ja tehnoloogia peavad hakkama kokku mängima.

Ma ei tea, milline see mudel täpselt olema saab. See peab olema midagi kavalat, mis võtab mõlemast parima ja hiilib mööda IT kiiruseihalusest. Mõtleme sihtasutuses Citizen OS selle peale iga päev. Meil on alati hea meel, kui keegi tuleb veel meiega koos mõtlema. Lõpuks on need siiski praegused noored, kes peavad selle mudeli välja mõtlema ja tööle panema, kui nad tahavad ka tulevikus elada vabas, demokraatlikus ühiskonnas ning nautida tehnoloogia arengu hüvesid.

1. Artiklis kasutatud näited on kõik GPT-4 kohta.

2. Nt Economist Intelligence Unit Democracy Index.

Esmailmumine: MIHUS, 14.06.2023, https://mihus.mitteformaalne.ee/chatgpt-ei-saa-teha-demokraatiat/

English version: Citizen OS website, https://citizenos.com/news/chatgpt-cannot-do-democracy/

„Isn’t it the perfect visual metaphore?“

„Of what?“

They were standing on the beach. A thin blanket of clouds was covering parts of the sky towards the horizon. In many parts, the wind had ripped holes into it or torn and blown away bits across the golden sky. Evening sun was hidden behind the clouds for the moment, but bright edges near a hole in the clouds were a clear indication, that it was about to peek through very soon. Sunset was perhaps half an hour away and was promising to be a spectacular sight.

Strong spring wind had whipped the sea into foamy waves. White rabbits, his grandparents had called these waves, when he was a kid in their summer house next to a large lake. Now, white rabbits where running everywhere up and down the beach.

„Of the human condition.“

They were looking at two lumps of sand before their feet, that were being quickly washed away, wave after wave. These were the remnants of the walls of a sand castle, that they had spent several hours building earlier in the day. The castle yard had been big enough for several people to stand in, encircled by a sand wall, enforced with stones, then a moat and then several wave  breakers made of sticks and stones. Since then, the wind had picked up and while the stones of the wave breakers were still visible, the waves were washing over them, the moat had been filled in and only two backmost segments of the wall were still standing. Soon, nothing would remain of the castle, the sand would again be evenly distributed across the beach, the energy they had spent building it washed out to sea.

„You see this infinite potential in all the sand. And then you create, not because you have to, not because you need to, but simply because you can. For the act of pure creation itself. You invest your love, you spend your energy, knowing full well, that all of it will be erased. Time will run its course, entropy will invariably increase and all the forms you have assembled will be evenly spread out once more. Without a trace.“

„Yeah, I suppose it is quite apt.“

A hole in the clouds aligned with the setting sun. For the next minute, people on the beach walking their dogs or jogging, if they happened to be looking up, could see a flaming viking ship stream across the western sky.

Good Omens

N. Gaiman, T. Pratchett

There was a time, in high school, when a number of my friends were reading and praising Terry Pratchett books. I wouldn't touch one. Not because I have something particularly against Terry Pratchett, I don't. Partly, it was because I had developed a somewhat allergic reaction to fiction. We had to read a lot of fiction in literature and English literature classes, most of which I found hard to relate to, if not downright boring. It's never made sense to me, for example, why Steppenwolf is in the compulsory reading list, while Siddhartha and The Glass Bead Game are not. Not only are the latter two superior books, they are also far more interesting. Hence, I heavily gravitated towards non-fiction, going to sleep at night with a copy of Capitalism and Freedom on my bedside table where normal people would keep a bible or a paperback.

My reading table was also quite full of Economist and The World Press Review magazines as well as various printed and copied articles and evidence packs for debate cases. Mostly, though, my reluctance to dip into a Pratchett book was about choosing my own books, not reading what everyone else was reading. I figured a time would come, when I would look into what all the fuss was about. The same goes for Neil Gaiman – when American Gods was all the craze, I was careful to pass around it in a large circle. Kind of the same reason I 'm yet to pick up anything by Harari. I have bought them, they are in my now-digital bookshelf, but I'll give it another ten years or so and if they have stood the test of time, then maybe I'll take a look. Rushing headfirst into a book just because people around you seem to think the book is good has never been cup of tea.

Now, with the Covid-19 pandemic raging outside and everyone spending more time at home, I was looking for some dark humour well written. Not that there is any more time to read, quite the opposite. But there were some hours of the night where I could use a laugh. And if you bring two ingenious writers together for a single story about armageddon, then – entertainment guaranteed.

It was interesting trying to trace what had been written by which author. This being my first Terry Pratchett ever, I've nothing to go on to identify his writing. But by now I've read most Neil Gaiman novels, so by identifying his work and separating it, it was easy to deduce, which bits had more Pratchett in them. Of course, I have absolutely no confirmation for my deductions. Perhaps there are sources, where the authors have dissected the book themselves, but I did not go to look for them. It was just a small, enjoyable mental exercise for myself. In all honesty, though, I think if two good writers are writing a book together in a way that they describe having written it, it is bound to have so much of one bouncing off of and reflecting the other, that no clear lines are possible. Nevertheless, there is an image here, a scene there, a sentence in the third place, that either sounds like Gaiman or then doesn't. Which should mean it sounds like Pratchett. I liked these self-designated Gaiman bits more, the Pratchett bits I sometimes found too over-the-top or too obvious. With Gaiman, it's more innuendos and references you have to dig into to discover.

Overall, I found what I was looking for – appropriate dark humour about the end of days and how, in the end (of the end), human experience and reason save the day. In these days of pandemic panic, that is a welcome message. And let's be honest, who can resist reading about willfully stylish demons driving around in flaming 1926 Bentleys and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse arriving on flying choppers in the form of sexy war correspondents and food industry businessmen. Recommend.

Meditations

Marcus Aurelius

In order to eat an apple, first pick up the apple. Then bring your hand, with the apple still in it, to your mouth. Open your jaws wide, put the apple between your open jaws and press them closed, thereby biting off a piece of the apple. Now remove your hand, with the rest of the apple, from your mouth …

Would you read a book like that? More precisely, how long would you read a book like that for?

The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius is a rare one in my experience. First, I seldom leave a book unfinished. Very seldom. Second, I’ve never done it to a good book. But here you have it, a good book that I’m leaving unfinished.

I agree with nearly everything that is written in the book. Which is why I find it tedious. I read about 15% of it word by word, then a further 15% skimming. Then from 30% I made two almost random jumps to about 2/3 of the way through and to about the final 10% of the book, just to check for any changes. There were none in tone, style or content.

The message of the book (spoiler alert!) in three sentences:

1. Be good, don’t be vain or evil!

2. You are mortal and everything around you is in permanent change.

3. Suppress your emotions, always follow the path of reason.

For the second review in a row, I find myself writing “too many words to convey a point”. The words are well chosen, precise. Observations are acute and to the point. It’s just that I know all this. More than that, I aspire to practice all this and have for a long time. Just like you know how to eat an apple, without having to read about it, page after page after page.

If you want to know, how to lead a decent human life – here it is, in a not too thick a book. No narrative, just simple directions. Do this. Don’t do that. It’s a manual. Just don't expect to fall off your chair.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Robert M. Pirsig

This is a difficult review to write. I have started twice and both times found my mind walking multiple paths and selecting none. This is the third attempt.

Part of the reason, why this is difficult, is that the book has at least four interwoven narratives. There’s the road trip. There’s the life of Phaedrus. The father-son relationship. And the story of Quality. These narratives intertwine, one becomes a metaphor for the other, merge and separate again. Admittedly, the fame and influence of the book derived from the narrative of Quality, but should that be the one to review? Or should all four be reviewed?

Should you choose to pick up the book, please allow me to give you two warnings. First, it’s no quick read. At times, I was captivated, turning page after page into the wee hours of the night. At others, while remaining a good read, it slowed down to the point where I had days, perhaps as much as a week between chapters. Then there are passages, where quick reading isn’t possible, due to the density of thought. You read a paragraph, take a sip, look into the distance, re-read the paragraph. Second, be prepared to read it more than once. Disclaimer – at the time of writing this, I haven’t. But I strongly suspect that new layers open up as one goes through these pages more than once. Definitely a book for re-reading multiple times, if ever there was one.

As a teacher of argument skills…well, Phaedrus was a teacher of rhetoric. The whole book is cognitively very well structured. There’s a high degree of order, of clarity. I'm always on the lookout for people that have attained clarity via the cognitive route, so it was a considerable joy to discover that Robert Pirsig has taken the path and written about it via Phaedrus. In this sense, the book reads like scripture, albeit a narrative one.

A few months ago I had the pleasure of working with a young lady from English College to moderate a discussion. I sensed in her the potential to follow down the same path. I told her about this in a roundabout way and asked her to come to me, if she ever finds herself in a moment of desperation. Pirsig, interestingly, has chosen to drive Phaedrus beyond that point in the book, to full-blown mental disorder, at least as viewed from the outside. Which then becomes the crossroads tension point in the father-son relationship narrative.

Once the mind is clear, it, of course, makes no difference whether this is practiced and described via mastering computer games, doing calligraphy, playing an instrument, cooking or, as in this case, repairing a motorcycle. No difference at all. It takes very many words in this book to say what it wants to say. It feels more like the writing of it was a literary road trip for the author. And reading it as a road … story, if there is such a term, is the frame of mind I would suggest. Naturally, invoking some Marlon Brandoish imagery in the 70s made success that much more likely.

There is a section, about two thirds of the way in, lasting for a few chapters, that deals with zen and motorcycle maintenance in parallel, expounding upon Quality. That part, for me, was a polished gem. Up there with, dare I write it, the river scene from Siddhartha, for example. When you find the road trip takes too long to get going, bare with it. Your patience will be well rewarded. And yes, you do need to read the rest of it, to appreciate the marrow. I actually think Pirsig wrote this part first, and the rest of it later as a sequel-prequel to that core segment. Just a guess, though.

As a critique of Aristotelian paradigm? Yes, if you’re thus inclined. If you can recognize the relevant social and educational conditioning in yourself.

So what about the main Quality storyline? What about Quality? Tao defined is not the true Tao. Without having realized it, the book might be incomprehensible. Having realized it, the book might even feel a bit … unnecessary?

Nevertheless, I will keep recommending it in the hopes, that someone will take steps closer to clarity as a result of reading it. So on the recommendation scale, it’s a 5 out of 5.

The Eerie Silence

Paul Davies

“Are there other people out there in the Universe?” the excited eyes of a primary school kid looking at her with a sparkle. Ellie smiles. “The most important thing is, that you all keep searching for your own anwsers. I'll tell you one thing about the universe, though. The universe is a pretty big place. It's bigger than anything anyone has ever dreamed of before. So if it's just us... it seems like an awful waste of space. Right?”

The book is about the Fermi paradox – “Where is everyone?” And it's about SETI. How do you define “life”? Not the most pertinent question here on Sol 3, which has enough life for eight planets, to borrow a phrase from Prot. But inescapable, if you're tasked with finding it elsewhere in the Universe. What exactly should you look for? And what is “intelligence”? Are we searching for extraterrestrial intelligence, because the evidence for intelligent life on Earth is highly questionable? Well, dolphins and elephants might qualify.

Paul Davies, a renowned physicist, walks the reader through the dilemmas above and many others,  that SETI people are faced with. What radio spectrum to listen to? What other electromagnetic bands or signs to look for? Before he gets to any of it, though, he wisely goes through the basics of the Drake equation and the values for the different variables. So even if you've never much thought about humanity's search for companionship in the universe, you'll be eased into it gently enough.

So how do we look for life on other planets? Davies gives a good overview of all the different methods that have been used or proposed over the years. Radioastronomy is perhaps the best known, with large radio telescopes scanning the skies for signals from alien civilizations. But why look for radio signals? Well, because radio is our best means of long range communications. So in our search for aliens, we come right back down to Earth. In order to find someone, we need to look for them. And since there's very little chance of seeing them directly for now, we need to look for signs of them. Emitted gases in the atmosphere of their planet when they exhale, changes in the light of their star when they build energy harvesting superdomes around them.

This all goes from an assumption. That life on other worlds in some ways resembles life on Earth. That intelligence needs to be biological. And that intelligent creatures would follow our own curve of development, would leave signatures on their planet similar to ours.

Going right back to the elephants, then, how would we detect elephants from Alpha Centauri AB 2? They don't build mines, saturate the atmosphere with CO2, emit radio waves or laser beams and don't put rockets in the sky or space stations in orbit. The one species that does this on Earth I struggle to call intelligent.

For me, though, it was less about what was written in the book, and more about the thoughts in invoked.

For example, I'm always amused when I hear about people who practice astrobiology. I recently saw a decent documentary called “The Most Unknown”, where one of the five scientists that the movie followed was a practicing astrobiologist. In the absence of known biological life on any other planet, however, what he was really doing was studying extremophiles right here on Earth. All in the hope, that one day evidence for something similar might turn up on another celestial body, inside or outside of the Solar system. Still, astrobiology is among some of the theoretical-to-the-point-of-being-amusing fields of science.

As for defining intelligence, imagine a man. He moves into a lovely, pristine 16-th century house. He doesn't own the house. Doesn't know much about it's past and isn't much interested, either. Definitely doesn't understand how it works. In a few days after having settled in he trashes it. Rips up the wooden floors to burn for warmth. Brakes the window panes for air, because he lacks the skills to open the windows. Then tries to mend the panes with tape, realising the cold gets in. Excavates the foundations in search of a treasure, destabilising the walls. Would you call such a person intelligent? Me neither.

On a final note, I'm actually writing this review many years after having read the book. It's 2018 and we know for sure, that there exist technologically advanced life forms other than homo sapiens sapiens. In 2017 the Pentagon officially released FLIR videos and testimonies from the Nimitz Encounter and the Chilean military officially released videos of a UFO encounter by one of it's border patrol helicopters. In 2018 Irish air traffic control released and the world media far and wide reported recordings of multiple commercial pilots witnessing unknown arial objects far exceeding the capabilities of terrestrial aircraft. So I dare say not only is it bloody obvious we're not alone when looking at the starry sky at night, we now also have official confirmation of it. Do we still need SETI, then? Well, we don't know of another home world and we have no (publicly) official contact by way of a signal, a delegation etc. Interesting times, then. And a good read.

Norse Mythology

Neil Gaiman

6000 years ago in Sumer, at the roots of our present civilization, people worshipped Enlil, the god of air, wind, and thunder. Enlil was not a lone deity, the Sumerian pantheon had many other gods besides, but Enlil was one of the most important. In Sumer, gods and goddesses were closely associated with astronomy. Many deities were paired with specific stars or constellations. The most important gods were paired with planets of the solar system and Enlil's planet was Jupiter, which Sumerians new to be the largest planet in orbit around the Sun.

A thousand years later, Babylonian thundergod and later the main god Marduk took the place of Enlil. Marduk was, like Enlil before him, associated with the planet Jupiter.

When Ancient Greece flourished, it was Zeus, who was the god of thunder, the king of gods and the protector of the largest planet in the solar system. Naturally, that planet was then also called Zeus.

Romans followed the Greek, and it was them who gave the gods and thus also the planets the familiar names they carry today. The largest planet was renamed Jupiter and at the top of the Roman pantheon stands Jupiter, the god of thunder, lightning bolts in hand.

Roman times ended, three hundred years passed and the first Viking raids on the shores of the British Isles were recorded. Northmen came with the name of their thundergod Thor on their lips. Such was the influence of the Norsemen and their gods, that where Jupiter had been in the minds and the words of the Anglo-Saxon people, now Thor proudly stood. Has always stood.

And stands to this day. Each week, as the fifth day dawns, we invoke the name of Thor. Thursday, we say. I mentioned it as the fifth day, because in most calendar systems before 16th century or possibly even before the ISO8601 international calendar of 1988, the week begins with the day of the Sun. Sunday. The biggest, the brightest, the one in the center. Yom Rishon. Sun day. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday.

Thor's Day. Many Christian Europeans would (like to) believe, that the seven-day week comes from the bible, the word of god, the Book of Genesis, the creation. In a way, it does, but it certainly did not start there.

The fifth day of the Viking week was Thor's day. The fifth day of the week for Romans was Jupiter day (dies Jovis). The fifth day of the week for Greek was Zeus day (hemera Dios). The fifth day of the week for Babylonians was Marduk day. The fifth day of the week for Sumerians was ... yes, the Enlil day. And the Sumerians, at the dawn of our present civilization 6000 years ago, came up with the seven day week and assigned the days to the Sun (Sun-day), the Moon (Mon-day) and the rest of the planets in the solar system. Jupiter. Fifth day. God of thunder. Thor. Thursday. You get the picture, right.

The Viking culture was not the first or the oldest. And it certainly wasn't standalone. It was another step in the cultural, anthropologic and migratory meanderings of mankind. I'd never read the Norse mythology before picking up the Neil Gaiman version. Why did I pick it up now? A combination of old curiosity and trust in Gaiman's superior storytelling abilities, mostly.

It starts with creation. All mythologies do. Light and darkness were separated (fire and ice, in this case), dry land with bodies of water, balmy climate, plants and animals a plenty, created for man (Midgard, in this case). Heavens (Asgard) above for the gods and Hell (Hel) below for the dead, who have to cross a river to get there, guarded by the hell-hound (Garm). Any of this sound familiar even without reading Norse mythology? :) In the Norse case, but unlike Christian creation myths, the different worlds are all interconnected by yggdrasil, the world tree. The ancient baltic myths called it ilmapuu, in Chinese mythology it's Kien-Mu, in Hindu creation myths Ashvattha etc.

Most of the rest of the book contains the lives and adventures of the gods, their relationships and feuds. Think Greek mythology, for instance.

In the final chapter (the Book of Revelation), we have Ragnarök. The Judgement Day. Yawm ad-Din. The dead arise. A final battle. Many gods are killed. The world goes up in flames and nothing but the ashes is left. Well, almost nothing. A man and a woman hide in the world tree, re-emerge once the fires have burned and repopulate Midgard with their kin. An important difference from the finality of the Christian doomsday.

Gaiman's is not a scientific approach to Norse mythology by any measure. It's a superb modern storyteller retelling us the oldest story of mankind, in it's Norse incarnation. Not a typical Neil Gaiman book, even though many of his previous works are saturated with references and characters of the Norse myths. Mr Wednesday, a case in point.

I was born in a country where Thor the thundergod was the most revered god of all. Perhaps unwittingly, but still. My birth certificate was stamped with the symbol of Mjollnir, Thor's hammer. As was my first student ID. Many other designs were proposed in the 1917 competition for Soviet symbol, including a number that featured tools or weapons (the wrench, for example, and the sword). Yevgeny Kamzolkin, author of the winning design, has not explicitly written why he chose to cross the sickle and the hammer on the coat of arms, that went on to become the national emblem of the Soviet Union. We do know, that it was Lenin himself, who dropped the sword and picked the hammer. But the rich and ancient symbolism (the red star, the rising sun) of Kamzolkin's design indicates, that the university-educated artist was no doubt aware of the semiotic meanings behind his chosen devices, including the hammer, which as a symbol of the industrial proletariat and the industry in general goes back to Slavic god Svarog, the hammer-holding god, the protector of blacksmiths, the god of heavenly fire.

“Neil Gaiman’s retelling of the Norse mythology corpus is thoroughly modern, audacious and distinctly novelistic,” writes another reviewer. Ditto. It's a story, it's all just a story.