Birds of a feather flock together. But not just birds. Just about everything short of magnets—which are well known for their polar fields in which like charges repel.
Even atoms “flock.” The periodic table of elements reveals this by arrangements of periods (rows) and groups (columns). And the stuff from which atoms are made, quarks, for example, just don’t want to go off on their own—at least not since the super hot origin of the universe. You never hear a physicist saying, “Have you seen my pet quark? I hope it hasn’t run off again.” Quarks flock inside protons and neutrons.
It appears that the subatomic “flocking” of quarks extends through much of the rest of Nature. Mineral classifications do the same for molecular crystals as the periodic table does for the elements; there’s a whole series of feldspars, for example, all of them silicate minerals with some slight differences, such as the inclusion of calcium, barium, potassium, or sodium in a general tectosilicate structure. And, since I mentioned “silicate,” I should note that continental rocks are in general richer in silicon than oceanic rocks. Continents are generally composed of lighter materials (in color and weight) than ocean floors; thus, they “stand higher” or float higher than ocean floors do over the mushy asthenosphere and dense mantle. And where’s the heavy iron and nickel? Those heavy elements flock mostly in the planet’s two cores, an outer liquid one and an inner solid one. So, without much further ado about elements, minerals, and rocks, I’ll simply add that “sorting” is a natural process that you can see anytime you go to the beach, where the fine sands of dunes have been sorted by wind from the larger grains in the surf zone, to a prairie where prairie dogs gather, or to a forest of fir.
As I wrote above, “flocking” isn’t just for the birds; it occurs in much of nature, including in humans, whose gregarious nature makes the species gather in groups from families to cities. We know also that people of like mind tend to group intentionally or unintentionally, the former evident in social media and on the Web. And why not? There’s comfort and safety in like-mindedness. There’s less flight or fight. The amygdalae are quiescent—except in addressing a common “enemy,” that is, a person or group that isn’t “of one-and-the-same mind.” The likeminded typically see the world in terms of “us or them.” And that leads to conflicts large and small.
We often hear some version of Rodney King’s plea, “Can’t we all just get along,” voiced whenever conflict becomes injurious. It’s a noble plea for unity, but truthfully, it’s an unrealistic plea. No, we can’t all just get along. Sorry to tell you that, but that’s my personal experience and the historic fact. Regardless of the idealistic wishes of those who form groups, the reality of human differences—even small differences in thought or interpretation—make variants that cause tensions. I’ve mentioned this before in the context of George Ripley’s Brook Farm, the experimental transcendentalist commune of the nineteenth century and in the context of the Franciscans which have subdivided into at least six different “flocks.” Unlike the rest of Nature, human nature just can’t maintain any particular flock for very long without some divisiveness. Even humans who want to stick together find themselves mimicking magnetic fields.
Group entropy that doesn’t occur among quarks and elements does occur among humans because each of us is more complex than the atoms of which we are made. Yes, we flock together over some encompassing idea, and we struggle as a group against competing ideas, but the nuances of any idea throws individuals initially bound to an ideology into a quandary. What does one do upon encountering an unacceptable change or subtle nuance not initially evident? Unlike bound quarks, we have a desire to live in a “free state” when we feel we are imprisoned by societal habit or force.
What we might notice is that when people bound by a particular social or political view discover they have differences with their flock, they take one of two positions: They suppress their disapproval first to avoid being ostracized or shunned and second to ensure being included by the other members of the group. Or they leave the original group to become independent outsiders and personae non grata.*
It might do all of us some good to ask about our relationship to the flock to which we belong, or, if we believe we have no flock, to ask whether our independence is real or merely ostensible.
*Think Bernie Sanders and Tulsi Gabbard.
Even atoms “flock.” The periodic table of elements reveals this by arrangements of periods (rows) and groups (columns). And the stuff from which atoms are made, quarks, for example, just don’t want to go off on their own—at least not since the super hot origin of the universe. You never hear a physicist saying, “Have you seen my pet quark? I hope it hasn’t run off again.” Quarks flock inside protons and neutrons.
It appears that the subatomic “flocking” of quarks extends through much of the rest of Nature. Mineral classifications do the same for molecular crystals as the periodic table does for the elements; there’s a whole series of feldspars, for example, all of them silicate minerals with some slight differences, such as the inclusion of calcium, barium, potassium, or sodium in a general tectosilicate structure. And, since I mentioned “silicate,” I should note that continental rocks are in general richer in silicon than oceanic rocks. Continents are generally composed of lighter materials (in color and weight) than ocean floors; thus, they “stand higher” or float higher than ocean floors do over the mushy asthenosphere and dense mantle. And where’s the heavy iron and nickel? Those heavy elements flock mostly in the planet’s two cores, an outer liquid one and an inner solid one. So, without much further ado about elements, minerals, and rocks, I’ll simply add that “sorting” is a natural process that you can see anytime you go to the beach, where the fine sands of dunes have been sorted by wind from the larger grains in the surf zone, to a prairie where prairie dogs gather, or to a forest of fir.
As I wrote above, “flocking” isn’t just for the birds; it occurs in much of nature, including in humans, whose gregarious nature makes the species gather in groups from families to cities. We know also that people of like mind tend to group intentionally or unintentionally, the former evident in social media and on the Web. And why not? There’s comfort and safety in like-mindedness. There’s less flight or fight. The amygdalae are quiescent—except in addressing a common “enemy,” that is, a person or group that isn’t “of one-and-the-same mind.” The likeminded typically see the world in terms of “us or them.” And that leads to conflicts large and small.
We often hear some version of Rodney King’s plea, “Can’t we all just get along,” voiced whenever conflict becomes injurious. It’s a noble plea for unity, but truthfully, it’s an unrealistic plea. No, we can’t all just get along. Sorry to tell you that, but that’s my personal experience and the historic fact. Regardless of the idealistic wishes of those who form groups, the reality of human differences—even small differences in thought or interpretation—make variants that cause tensions. I’ve mentioned this before in the context of George Ripley’s Brook Farm, the experimental transcendentalist commune of the nineteenth century and in the context of the Franciscans which have subdivided into at least six different “flocks.” Unlike the rest of Nature, human nature just can’t maintain any particular flock for very long without some divisiveness. Even humans who want to stick together find themselves mimicking magnetic fields.
Group entropy that doesn’t occur among quarks and elements does occur among humans because each of us is more complex than the atoms of which we are made. Yes, we flock together over some encompassing idea, and we struggle as a group against competing ideas, but the nuances of any idea throws individuals initially bound to an ideology into a quandary. What does one do upon encountering an unacceptable change or subtle nuance not initially evident? Unlike bound quarks, we have a desire to live in a “free state” when we feel we are imprisoned by societal habit or force.
What we might notice is that when people bound by a particular social or political view discover they have differences with their flock, they take one of two positions: They suppress their disapproval first to avoid being ostracized or shunned and second to ensure being included by the other members of the group. Or they leave the original group to become independent outsiders and personae non grata.*
It might do all of us some good to ask about our relationship to the flock to which we belong, or, if we believe we have no flock, to ask whether our independence is real or merely ostensible.
*Think Bernie Sanders and Tulsi Gabbard.
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