The stuff of the
universe, Lucretius proposed, is an infinite number of atoms
moving randomly through space, like dust motes in a sunbeam,
colliding, hooking together, forming complex structures,
breaking apart again, in a ceaseless process of creation and
destruction. There is no escape from this process. When we
look up at the night sky and marvel at the numberless stars,
we are not seeing the handiwork of the gods or a crystalline
sphere. We are seeing the same material world of which we are
a part and from whose elements we were made. There is no
master plan, no divine architect, no intelligent design.
Nature restlessly experiments, and we are simply one among the
innumerable results: “We are all sprung from celestial seed;
all have the same father, from whom our fostering mother earth
receives liquid drops of water, and then teeming brings forth
bright corn and luxuriant trees and the race of mankind,
brings forth all the generations of wild beasts, providing
food with which all nourish their bodies and lead a sweet life
and get their offspring.”
All
things, including the species to which we belong, have evolved
over vast stretches of time. The evolution is random, though
in the case of living organisms it involves a principle of
natural selection. That is, species that are suited to survive
and to reproduce successfully endure, at least for a time;
those which are not so well suited die off quickly. Other
species existed and vanished before we came onto the scene;
our kind, too, will vanish one day. Nothing – from our own
species to the sun – lasts forever. Only the atoms are
immortal.
In
a universe so constituted, Lucretius argued, it is absurd to
think that the earth and its inhabitants occupy a central
place, or that the world was purpose-built to accommodate
human beings… There is no reason to set humans apart from
other animals, no hope of bribing or appeasing the gods, no
place for religious fanaticism, no call for ascetic
self-denial, no justification for dreams of limitless power or
perfect security, no rationale for wars of conquest or
self-aggrandizement, no possibility of triumphing over nature.
Instead, he wrote, human beings should conquer their fears,
accept the fact that they themselves and all the things they
encounter are transitory, and embrace the beauty and the
pleasure of the world.
-- Stephen Greenblatt in The New Yorker
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