Managing a species

Putting aside the proposition that the ridiculous concept of a species is an arbitrary label which makes no sense on planetary scales of billion-year timelines, let us look at the Management 101 viewpoint of coordinating the activities of our species.

You see, on one hand, we have a company named SAIC that has made many a millionaire in areas around towns like Washington, D.C, and Huntsville, Alabama.

Then, on the other hand, we have the SAIC-haters who see companies like SAIC that hire brilliant (and not-so-brilliant) engineers and scientists in the government intelligence welfare program to create, protect and defend government assets around the world.

That, in itself, is a whole lot of concepts through out there in a couple of paragraphs.

What separates the scientifically-minded people who work for companies like SAIC from the scientifically-minded people who think SAIC shouldn’t exist?

In the spectrum of seven-plus billion people on this planet, where do those two groups generally fall?

I am no purist.  I hope I am a realist who writes science fiction fantastic tales for a money-losing tax writeoff against my government’s desire to earn revenue from me.

I understand the need for a company like SAIC that would create titles such as “Program Manager for Lethality and Mortality,” a job position that requires a person to manage a missile design program which ensures the most number of deaths when dropped on the ‘enemy’ [the lethality part] and the least number of deaths when used as a shield from incoming missiles directed by the ‘enemy’ [the mortality part].

In a perfect world, we would all be friends helping each other out rather than playing boy-toy wargames and killing the peasants with our war toys for fun.

Or would we?

“Come on down!  You’re the next contestant in the ‘Price is Right’!”

Is it a gender issue?  Is SAIC the result of years of patriarchal leadership?  In other words, does testosterone mixed with adrenaline drive our culture to war, spying and government/corporate control?

Is there an alternative that completely replaces our species’ need for hierarchical control?

How many police officers see the world as a sea of perps?

How many peace lovers see the world as a sea of love surrounding a few desert islands of the misguided?

Does the concept of haves-vs-the havenots have anything to do with this?

What about a global consumer economy of “I want more, More, MORE!!!!”?

Say, I am a student of the STEM disciplines and I know that my education will lead me not only to a comfortable lifestyle but a lavish one?  Would I trade a career where I spend more time in pure research, long hours and low pay for a career where I spend more time in government-supported commercial development, fewer hours and high pay?

What are my motivations?  What of my socioeconomic background?  What of my general/public education, starting with my formative years?

Am I assertive, rebellious and outspoken?  Or am I introverted, a good follower who obeys orders/commands starting with the simplest “30 MPH when road is wet” sign?

What if you’re a combination of these traits?

What would a personality profile test tell you?

And what about those of us who will decide how to give you the best guidance for your life as you transition from your childhood years to your adult years, based on your desires, motivations, skills, training and personality traits?

See, we want both the SAIC millionaire employees and the anti-SAIC haters, regardless of their socioeconomic status.

We have room for you, whoever you are, and whatever you want, spooks and nonspooks alike.

The economic pie keeps growing, even if portions of it shrink sometimes, or seems to be made of unequal slice sizes.

Your input is valuable and helps us reshape the pie based on current trends.

Keep in mind that negativity and satire have a funny way of shaping the future.  What you complaint about and make fun of often (Orwell’s “1984,” for instance) causes your opposition to move further into the business of undiscoverable dark secrets, digging deeper trenches that are harder to cross and meet your opposition halfway.

Instead of berating the cybersecurity spy business, propose a future that takes all seven-plus billion of us into account, including the SAIC millionaires who don’t want their fortunes to disappear overnight a la Enron, GM, Lehman Brothers, etc.

We can work with a positive proposal much easier than negative protesting or scathing satire.  Those of us who want to change the world have to pass the newspaper test, go home to our children, live with our friends and seek happiness as much as you do.

Don’t Fear The Reaper

Walking through the ditch at the front of our yard, stepping up and over vinca (what my in-laws called graveyard vine), bending over to cut unwanted tree/bush/vine seedlings — varieties of privet, hickory, cedar, sumac, ash, elm, oak, trumpet creeper, honeysuckle — a song popped into thoughts already dominated by a different song and different thoughts detailed later:

Goodbye, no use leading with our chins
This is where our story ends
Never lovers, ever friends
Goodbye, let our hearts call it a day
But before you walk away
I sincerely want to say
I wish you bluebirds in the spring
To give your heart a song to sing
And then a kiss, but more than this
I wish you love
And in July a lemonade
To cool you in some leafy glade
I wish you health
But more than wealth
I wish you love

My breaking heart and I agree
That you and I could never be
So with my best
My very best
I set you free

I wish you shelter from the storm
A cozy fire to keep you warm
But most of all when snowflakes fall
I wish you love
But most of all when snowflakes fall
I wish you love

Those lyrics played over the previous song in my thoughts, “Everything is beautiful“:

Jesus loves the little children,
All the little children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
They are precious in his sight.
Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Everything is beautiful in it’s own way.
Like the starry summer night, or a snow-covered winter’s day.
And everybody’s beautiful in their own way.
Under God’s heaven, the world’s gonna find the way.

There is none so blind as he who will not see.
We must not close our minds; we must let our thoughts be free.
For every hour that passes by, we know the world gets a little bit older.
It’s time to realize that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

And everything is beautiful in it’s own way.
Like the starry summer night, or a snow-covered winter’s day.
Oh, sing it children!
Everybody’s beautiful in their own way.
Under God’s heaven, the world’s gonna find the way.

We shouldn’t care about the length of his hair, or the color of his skin.
Don’t worry about what shows from without, but the love that lives within.
And we’re gonna get it all together now; everything gonna work out fine.
Just take a little time to look on the good side my friend,
And straighten it out in your mind.

And everything is beautiful in it’s own way.
Like the starry summer night, or a snow-covered winter’s day.
Ah, sing it children!
Everybody’s beautiful in their own way,
Under God’s heaven the world’s gonna find a way.
One more time!
Everything is beautiful in it’s own way.
Like the starry summer night, or a snow-covered winter’s day…

While I bent over and stood up, bent over and stood up, weeding the ditch step-by-step so that the major/minor/variegated vinca would be the plant(s) of choice, I remembered a story Mom told me.

My mother’s parents kept a large garden in the back part of their small farm.

As any gardener knows, weeding a garden is a regular part of growing your own food — you can see it as a chore or as a delight.

One summer, my grandparents took Mom out west in the late 1940s, traveling parts of Highway 66 and getting all the way to California from Tennessee.  The trip took a month to complete.

Well, as much fun as they had in a car before air conditioning was an affordable option, four weeks away from the farm meant one thing — LOTS of weeding and farm work when they got back.

Mom and her father spent long hours weeding out the beds of potatoes, corn, strawberries, grapes and other crops, a “deal” my grandfather cut with my mother for letting her have fun with them on their special, dream vacation to see this great country of ours.

Because I haven’t been able to sleep for a long time, I tried a product called Zzzquil last night.  I still didn’t fall asleep until after midnight (it couldn’t be the five cups of coffee earlier in the afternoon, could it?) but I had five hours of uninterrupted sleep afterward, not even noticing our cats curling up with my on the sofa in the sunroom.

I don’t even recall my dreams.

Except for one small thought that lingered as I dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved blue shirt to work in the yard this morning, imagining myself in my grandfather’s place, actually older now than he was then working with my mother on the farm, looking forward to getting to know the soil, insects, seedlings and personal meditative thought patterns as I worked.

Do I, do you, respond more to the words of a message or its emotional context/content? [What exactly do I mean by “emotional”?]

And, by extension, when we lay dying, do we quietly look for a signal that says when it’s all right to die?  How possible is it for us to work our friends/acquaintances/workmates network to find the signal we’re looking for?  How possible is it for us to feel/sense/hear the signal-seekers in our regular pattern-matching daily lives?

In other words, are we pattern-matching from womb to tomb?

Reference Library

How many discharges to rock a solar-powered hula dancer does a capacitor have before its intended useful life has been depleted? How many heartbeats do you have left?

Let us imagine.

Let us put ourselves in the boots of a young, not fully-hardened, 21-year old military leader.

Further, let us put him in charge of French peacekeeper troops, part of KFOR, guarding a bridge over the Ibar River in Kosovska Mitrovica.

Racial tensions are hard to erase but familiarity with those whom you have been brainwashed to call the enemy can open one’s eyes to the fact that we are usually about the same.

In normal, peaceful military exercises, conflicting orders challenge many a field officer’s goals and objectives, often involving politics outside the officer’s circle of influence.

You needn’t stretch your imagination to comprehend the conflicts that crop up in the fog of war, when spot decisions while you and your troops in the line of fire are made under duress as you interpret the implied meaning of the only two orders you’ve received that directly contradict each other.

For instance, one order tells you to protect and defend your troops by maintaining peace while guarding a bridge that acts as a de facto border between two ethnic groups. The second order tells you to protect and defend the civilians against violence in your peacekeeping jurisdiction while maintaining peace and guarding the bridge.

The bridge itself is a nonpeaceful symbol to the locals — one group wants to prevent another group from using or crossing the bridge.

Let’s say two of your troops are injured — could be by rocks/bricks or by a sniper’s bullets, doesn’t matter because you simply know it violates your first order, which motivates you to take action.

Unfortunately, the action you initiate violates the second order because protecting and defending your troops from further injury requires attacking the civilians, many of them armed with rocks, bricks and in a few cases, armaments.

What if you had to order your troops to open fire on a sniper in a civilian’s business/residence?

How do you keep the peace when you’re required to protect everyone in your jurisdiction, including ethnic groups willing to die killing each other to regain old territory, causing chaos through roadblocks and random violence, your troops stuck in the middle by international/NATO/KFOR decree?

Ultimately, politics prevail.

Your orders are always going to conflict at some point in your career, military or private.

However, fail the newspaper test, especially on a world scale, and someone in the chain of command wants heads to roll, even if guillotines are no longer legal or effective.

Enter the court-martial.

Integrity is a curious behavioral trait.

If, in the course of your duties, you have acted not only to the best of your abilities but also followed the best course of actions based on limited information in the fog of war, have you not provided an unassailable defense of your character?

Unfortunately, life is not always about the fairness of your highest ethical actions, let alone your thoughts.

Fortunately, politics and the court of public opinion do not always prevail.

Years pass after you were found not guilty at the court-martial.

Life goes on, your military career having moved into noncombat situations, another civil military servant performing the duties that keep your government’s military units technologically proficient and up-to-date.

One small issue, though. You have to live with the decision you made that led to an mentally excruciating court-martial.

The casualties, the maiming and mental injuries that pile up during wartime can be justified for moral purposes.

What about the same during a peacekeeping mission?

And what if your morals and ethics are based on the viewpoint of a Bright — a humanist, naturalist or existentialist atheist?

In other words, as a Frenchman marching down a path heavily trodden by Sartre, should you concern yourself at all about your previous momentary selves that exist only in the perpetual fantasy of a storyline you keep repeating because you imagine that time exists because people want to know who you are and where you came from?

Do you develop complex computer algorithms based on the previous work of others or can you create genius out of nothingness?

History, as the saying goes, is a fable agreed upon, subject to interpretation as to tragedy, travesty or triumph.

Some races and ethnic groups will perpetuate their subcultural superiourity to the detriment of others, fully entrenched to protect their historic fables against outside influences.

If you are ordered to put yourself in harm’s way between two strongly opposed racial/ethnic groups, don’t expect to find an easy-to-obtain win-win situation.

The fallacy of history and politics may have been set up to trip you at every step.

All you can do is get back up, on your feet if you can, in a wheelchair if you have to, don’t look back and set your sights on your personally-satisfying longterm goals, influenced by a long line of momentary selves, temporary confluences of states of energy that constitute what you’ve been trained to see as self and others.

The universe is benign. The set of states of energy that imagines itself as you has a limited lifetime.

Take comfort in your impermanence.