June 2022

Voltaire’s Science Fiction ‘Micromégas’
18th Century Story that Satirizes Self-Conceit of Mankind.

We talk about the world moving ‘fast’ today but Europe in the 18th century must have been faster. Yes, these express technological developments are blinding and who knows how long it will take for us to finally understand what has been happening for the last 20 years or so, but Europe in the 18th century must have been at a different level purely due to the amount of ideas being thrown around — new ideas about ourselves, our world, new ideas about ideas!

It was the time after the Renaissance and giant thinkers such as Descartes, Locke, Leibniz; time of men of science such as Kepler, Hooke and Newton. New interpretations of classic ideas were happening, art was developing, science was emerging and philosophy was changing — humanity was becoming something new!

It was in this mood that one of the definers of that space-time, the most popular interpreter of those years and people emerged: Voltaire and it was in this mood that his classic Micromégas appeared.

I had read on Wikipedia that this particular work of fiction was science fiction but my preconception got the better of me and it told me it was an exaggeration— after all what kind of science fiction could an 18th century philosopher write when science wasn’t even SCIENCE yet!

But I was surprised (and angry at myself at this habit of preconception).

This short story is about an inhabitant of a planet that revolves around Sirius — which is 24,000 times bigger than the Earth. His name is Mr. Micromégas. He is big (24000 geometrical paces of five feet each), he is old (600 years of age). He is a philosopher!

After being trialled for heretical observations he decides to travel the universe:

…sometimes by the help of a sunbeam, and sometimes by the convenience of a comet, he and his retinue glided from sphere to sphere, as the bird hops from one bough to another. He in a very little time posted through the milky way…

He reaches to the planet Saturn and notices that the inhabitants there were mere dwarfs compared to him (about a thousand fathoms high.) There he befiends the secretary of the Academy and they begin travelling together.

They slip from moon to moon and spring upon passing comets and they reach Jupiter. There they learn some secrets and leave. They traverse about one hundred million leagues and see two moons on Mars. They do not stay on Mars because they think it would be too small to accommodate them. So they continue on. Until…they are tired and want to rest. This is where they notice the Earth. There they resolve to land. They move toward the tail of a comet and finding an Aurora Borealis they embark. They arrive on the northern coast of the Baltic on the fifth day of July in the year 1737.

On Earth they encounter whales and think it to be the ruling animals. Finally, they encounter humans who are obviously visible to them only through microscopes and audible to them only through certain creative mechanisms. They do not believe that such small creatures could possess intelligence. They talk to humans and ask questions like — if they were happy, if they were inspired with souls, etc.

A human mathematician, astounded by the questions, measures them which makes them realize that one should not judge things by its external magnitude.

Then they begin conversing with philosophers and learn from them that the Earth-humans fight with each other a lot for leaders who never go to the place of conflict by wretches who possibly never behold the leaders who tell them to sacrifice.

Hearing about the barabarians who rule from their palaces, give orders for murdering millions the Sirian is fillied with compassion for the human race. He then recognizing that there are only few who are wise in the entire species, he asks questions about mathematics and science. Hearing the answers, he is impressed. And then he asks them about soul:

Tell me what is the soul, and how do your ideas originate?

What follows after this question is bombardment of ideas from the philosophers. Some quote Aristotle and some Descartes, some Mallebranche and some Leibniz and Locke. But all present different opinions.

A person tells them he can answer all the secrets (which was contained in the abridgment of St. Thomas) and after he surveys them from top to toe, he says that they too were made for the use of man!

When leaving, the Sirian presents a book to the humans which he says will demonstrates the very essence of things.

What he writes in that book, I will not write here. I suggest you read, or rather experience the work yourself.

All in all I think this book manages to beautifully illustrate the speed of that age in Europe — the variety, the hope and the excitement from all the intellectual developments happening. We humans tend to get carried away a lot. It is happening today as well, with our scientific and technological progress.

After reading this book I have realized that this is nothing new. I consider 18th century Europe to be crazier and more full of doubts and imaginations than today. It was a dangerous time, for it was a time where ideas and idea-generators were popular. Anything could have been thought, imagined and envisioned. Things could have gone anywhere, but it has reached here. Voltaire surely was influential in all this.

The Skill Of Selective Talking
Why are some people boring to listen to?

Selective Talking

Before getting into selective talking, I want to give present some background. 

A few days ago, I attended a small literary gathering. There were different kinds of creative and intellectual people with diversity in profession, career-track, writing styles, etc. The things in common being that all were intellectuals and older than me. Much older. This allowed me to freely be curious as I freely asked questions and listened to them answer.

I introduced myself to almost every one there and keenly listened to them. Everything was going well. I was learning important things and getting to know them. After the event ended, I got to talking with a man in his mid 60s — a scholar who had degrees in Buddhism and Geography. I had started the conversation by asking him what his field was. But what followed from him was quite unlike anyone I had spoken to by that time. HE was both boring and anxiety-inducing for me:

He began narrating his biography: Where he was born, how/in what he was educated, how many surgeries he has had, where lives his son, what he studies, etc. etc.

I didn’t want to be rude so I listened. But I got bored. I wanted to walk-off. I wanted him to walk-off. I wanted someone to come and interrupt. I wanted the conversation to end.

The surprising thing was, I do understand that he was speaking of crucial things. In fact, he was providing me important life-lessons through stories of his own personal experiences. He had educated himself in diverse subject matters, so it was supposed to be very important for me to help balance and cope with my own struggles with balancing variety: BUT something was off in him!

‘This person speaks about important things, but it all feels nonsense to me.’

At first I thought it might have been my issue: attention deficiency and all that. But then, I had been listening to more than a dozen other people and none had bored me to such an extent, if at all. All had given brief and solid answers. It had all been enjoyable and impactful.

But then I noticed something: all of them (who didn’t bore me) were either much older than the person who bored me or were much more productive/successful in literature!

And that’s where I noticed something for the first time in my life: The Skill Of Selective Talking.

And then yesterday I discovered this Voltaire quote:

The secret of being a bore is to tell everything.

Curious and creative people usually have a lot of ideas inside their head. And I have come to believe that the most nonsense of talkative people are also either one of those. This quality (having ideas) pushes one to express. The most profound ones express with writing or other forms of creations. The not so profound ones have nothing but talking at their disposal. But that doesn’t mean the profound ones don’t talk or the shallow ones don’t write! My point however is: curious and creative people have a lot to express, but bad expression is worse than no expression, hence, selective talking is an important skill to have. And such talking is something that profound ones do. The shallow ones just blabber irrespective of the degrees they have acquired.

By selective talking I mean keeping these elements in mind while talking with someone:

Why is this person listening to me?
What should I talk?

When I said above that the older or more prolific ones out there had given me solid to-the-point answers and hadn’t bored me, I say they were the profound ones. And I think the profound ones ask the questions above and answer them carefully to themselves before talking with anyone else. Or they could just be old and too tired to talk.

Anyways, the fact remains that we talk to express and we express to communicate. What is the point of expressing things or expressing in a manner that bores others and therefore deafens them and doesn’t become communication at all? It misses the whole point. Understanding this is being profound.

The person that had bored me and hence taught me a valuable life-lesson (if he wasn’t doing it intentionally to teach me and was therefore the most profound of them all) was not selective talking. He was expressing himself out of his urge without considering me as a listener. He didn’t care about me or why I was talking to him for that matter. He just expressed himself. While everyone doing things for selfish reasons is the norm of life (as I myself was trying to learn for myself), his talking bored me. It was important but seemed irrelevant. It was sensible but sounded nonsense. For me, he made noise the whole time, didn’t communicate. He wasn’t profound or old enough!

After that I have tried to tell myself to practice this skill of selective talking. After all, why do I want to bore others and waste my crucial energy at the same time — at the gain of nothing? I am telling myself to rather be quiet and listen. Talk only when it’s worth it. When it is required of me. When I have something important or entertaining to communicate.

The same applies to videos, cinema, lectures, speeches and writing:

While there may be point in writing things for self-expression, there is no point publishing them if they are not selected carefully. If they are not selective-writings, they just occupy computer and library spaces and achieve nothing. They merely bore others and waste our energy (and time-money resources too).

EITHER BE PROFOUND OR GROW OLD!


 

The Read-Write Balance Agitation
When you read, you don’t want to write. You write and you stop reading. What’s going on?!

I don’t think I am alone in this. I am sure I am not alone in this. This restlessness is painful!

When I start a book, I do not want to stop until I have finished it. Yes, I have my Time Management Formula where I divide my day into parts where reading and writing get a certain amount of time each. I have divided in a manner so as to not mix them together. One at a time. It is supposed to help me cure this agitation, this headache:

Read-only from x to y AM.

Write-only from a to b PM.

Yet, when I start a book I want x and y to extend forever, killing a and b in the process. I want to read on and on: for the whole day, days or weeks. Until the book is finished. Done!

I find it difficult to get into the writing mode while I read.

The same happens when I am in the writing mode.

When I start writing a thing or two, I want a and b to extend forever, killing x and y in the process. I want to write on and on: for the whole day, days or weeks. Until I am exhausted and out of writing energy. Done!

I find it difficult to get into the reading mode while I write.

YET:

I have a Time Management Formula. It is supposed to help me cure this agitation, this restlessness, this headache.

This issue drives me crazy. Take this moment for instance. This moment: when I am writing this article, I am writing as if I will never ever read a book in my life. I am a writer, I don’t read, is what’s buzzing inside my head.

But something similar had happened this morning when I was reading a book:

I love to read, fk writing, was what was buzzing inside my head.

If looked upon as action, as a whole, I may have been successfully reading and writing. But during each process the difficulty, the restlessness, the agitation, the ache is real. It hurts.

I am trying to make friends of reading and writing. I want them to be friends. I want them to understand each other. I want them to understand me. I want them to understand the situation. I want them to understand the human irony.

At times, they do understand. But most of the time they don’t.

Yet in the overall context, I do both. But with pain. The Time Management Formula works. It is like a machine which pushes me to do things. It makes things happen. But it is like a machine. It doesn’t make me feel. It pushes me. It just gets things done. Just like machines.

I wish they (reading and writing) understood each other. I wish I could get up after finishing this and read for the rest of the day. But no! Another writing-idea has popped up. It’s as if I want to throw all the books away and just write for the rest of my life. Yet when I start reading, I don’t want to stop. After I finish something I want to read something else immediately. I want to go on and on…

Yet, the Time Management Formula works: like a clock. Like a machine. I want something organic…

What about you? Does this happen to you? How do you deal with this?