The Last Generation

Countdown to Singularity, Image via Wikipedia

Are we the last generation of humanity?

One of the unique aspects of human consciousness is a desire to understand the nature of our reality. This has manifested itself across all domains of life: spiritual, scientific, psychological, and philosophical. As a species, we are blessed with a deep dissatisfaction with whatever our current circumstances may be, leading to a drive to improve our quality of life. This has lead to the rise and fall of civilisations and religions across the ages. Distinct from this waxing and waning of interpersonal systems has been a much more steady rise in our technological sophistication. Of course there have been hiatus, often caused by an influx of newcomers into a rigid society e.g. the arrival of the Sea Peoples leading to Bronze Age collapse, or the fall of the Roman Empire due to political infighting during a period of external pressure from the Goths. Similar patterns can be detected in civilisations across the globe. But while the collapse of societal structures have delayed technological progress, they have never been able to fully press the reset button, and so sophistication accumulates.

It has been suggested that such progress is logarithmic, leading inevitably to the development of a technological singularity at which time mankind would be able to design an artificial intelligence greater than its own. Beyond this point, such superintelligences become able to improve themselves faster than man can understand, leading to an unpredictable and rapidly-evolving future. The idea is old, stretching back to the 19th century, but has received much greater attention and publicity over the past quarter-century. Theories abound as to whether singularity is possible, and whether the implications will be transformative or apocalyptic for humanity.

What is certain is that recent technological progress has done nothing to suggest that the theory is fundamentally flawed. Almost every day brings stories of startling new discoveries. For instance, it is now possible to read what another person is thinking, at least in a very rudimentary fashion. Is it really so far-fetched to assume that at some point, the technology to do so will be refined, miniaturised and made portable?

Consider your mobile phone, and how it would have seemed the height of science fiction even 30 years ago to suggest everyone would be routinely carrying around such incredibly powerful and versatile devices. It does not seem unlikely to me that such technology would continue to advance and become so integrated into our lives that it becomes integrated into our bodies, with displays directly interfacing with our retinas. Science fiction? Only just. There are already more than a dozen electronic prosthetic retinas in various stages of development and clinical trials, with an aim of restoring sight to the blind. While still primitive, money and time have a way of solving most difficulties, and both have been made available to these devices. The next obvious step would be using such technology to augment vision, instead of merely to restore it.

Even if we do not go down the road of cybernetic implants, it seems irrefutable that our degree of technological immersion will advance in other ways. Our entertainment systems, our cars, our phones, our very ability to acquire and process new information: all are already heavily influenced by electronic networks. It seems almost irrelevant whether they become physically part of us; they are already mentally – and emotionally – part of us.

The great hope of many transhumanists is that technological singularity and our increased integration with electronic networks will lead to a form of immortality, at least of consciousness. This has the vague air of eschatological myth, albeit built upon scientific hopes rather than religious ones. One might even describe this unconscious desire for ego dominance over death as a power phantasy.

I am not so convinced; everything I see suggests we are on a path to a very different kind of existence, with potential for a signifiant degree of self-actualisation within its broader scope.

Unfortunately, I do rather suspect the transhumanists are over-optimistic on the timeline. They suggest singularity sometime around the middle of this century or a little later i.e. within my lifetime, with luck and good health. I have a sneaking suspicion that it will arrive somewhat later. I will have to make do with other ways of seeking Jungian individuation.

Strange to think that my generation may be the last to need to do so.

The Modern-Day Monk

It is not surprising that several guests at Friday’s Royal Wedding were anonymously quoted as “feeling jaded” yesterday. Anticipation of great events is commonly followed by a drained numbness, even if the event meets elevated expectations. Life thus passes by as a series of interspersed highs and, if not lows, mediocre neutrals. Is this the sum total of the human experience?

Man has historically found three ways to neutralise this nihilistic perspective: fame, religion and propagation.

Fame, with its associated glamour, can be fleeting or it can last a lifetime. Occasionally it outlasts its originating source and is considered worthy – or notorious – enough to be important to historical and cultural record. Whether transient or semi-permanent, its nourishment to the famous person is thin when weighed against the permanence of death. It can sustain the mind in the short-term, but is ultimately lacking.

To combat this failure of Temporal Power to assuage anomie, religion developed to offer believers escape from death, whether through reincarnation or heaven. Such Spiritual Might remains a comfort to many, channelling and guiding human emotion into soothingly predictable paths. Like Temporal Power, it offers individuals a larger sense of self that is part of a grander existence than Hobbes’ description of Man’s life as “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short”.

But for many, meaningful fame is impossible (the Warhol-esque 15 minutes of reality TV or social networking hardly counts) and religious faith escapes them, or is actively shunned. Frequently, their final refuge is propagation and it is a rare parent indeed that does not think of their children as the best thing they ever did.

Creating the next generation is certainly a valuable role; I would not want to see the human species wiped out! But does it truly offer a solution to the impermanence of man? I suggest not; the real essence of even the best of parents is lost from collective memory within at most four generations. As long as the parent does not think too deeply about this inevitable historical dissipation, Familial Legacy can substitute for either Temporal Power or Spiritual Might and stave off despair at the prospect of death.

What if none of the above are to the liking of the individual, if all are thought to fail the essential test of overcoming fear of death and giving life meaning, what then?

Enter the Modern-Day Monk.

The archetype of the man who seeks spiritual enlightenment through disengagement from the world is an ancient one. We see echoes of his presence in all the major world religions, mythologies and philosophies. Traditionally, the Monk has sought physical separation from the world; either to wander alone or in the company of select fellow travellers on a similar journey. He has used asceticism as a tool to aid enlightenment. Asceticism encourages the abandonment of sensual pleasure and material wealth, deeming these to be distractions from personal growth.

The Modern-Day Monk follows a different path to individuation. It is not physical abandonment of the world that is important, but intellectual detachment. This detachment from the value systems of others (the Temporal, Spiritual and Familial spheres) nonetheless permits material and emotional engagement with the world. He is able to weigh up and measure situations and people rapidly, allowing only positive effects through to his inner self. He comes across to others as tolerant and moderate, as he has no need to be otherwise. He enjoys the world, but does not let the world rule his inner heart. And in the face of new challenges, he has an inner core of willpower – a clear sense of self – to neutralise against torment.

The more philosophically (or religiously) minded will have already identified the characteristics outlined in the preceding four sentence as the Four Cardinal Virtues: Prudence, Temperance, Justice, and Fortitude respectively. The virtues are named Cardinal for being the hinge (L. cardo) upon which rests the door of life. It is not the door to a physical retreat from the world as the first step to an afterlife. It is a system to support and enhance our human desire to be part of the world, while not being ruled by it.

The Modern-Day Monk lives well, as well as wisely.

Masters of Irrational Torments

Hermes Trismegistus, Image via Wikipedia

• Ignorance
• Grief
• Lack of Self Control
• Desire
• Injustice
• Greed
• Deceit
• Envy
• Treachery
• Anger
• Rashness
• Malice

The syncretic wisdom of The Hermetica continues to play on my mind. The above is its list of Irrational Torments.

Escape from them comes through the acquisition of Wisdom, in an iterative virtuous circle of self-reflection. In scientific language, it would be a positive feedback loop.

This is a remarkably humanist viewpoint for such an old text, where knowledge of the eternal comes not in an instant but by being willing to contemplate self-improvement:

“[God] is by nature a musician,

who composes the harmony of the Cosmos

and transmits to each individual

the rhythm of their own music.

But I have noticed

that when an artist

deals with a noble theme

his lyre becomes mysteriously tuned”

This may sound mystical and abstruse, but the practical life lessons that can be drawn from thinking in this way are omnipresent.

As I type, the Augusta Masters is approaching its climax. Golf may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but to play it well requires an ability to rise above both temporal and spiritual distractions. Mind and body must operate in harmony and irrational torments set aside. Sports professionals call it “being in the zone”, where everything becomes simple because their focus is pure. But this purity of thought is applicable to every life task, and to life itself.

As the example of Tiger Woods – currently charging through the field – shows, it is not enough to apply these lessons to one aspect of life alone. His much-publicised personal difficulties reveal an unwillingness to apply a similar degree of thoughtfulness off the course. He has been quoted in the past as saying that he’s happiest when playing a round of golf, and this is not surprising. It is at these moments when he works the hardest to achieve balance.And yet he does not make the connection that this sense of balance is something he could also find in his personal life, if he applied the same degree of effort to it.

His challenge is the same as the rest of ours; to strive to be as wise in the rough as on the fairway.

Related Articles

• The Devil at the Bar in the 5* Hotel (beyondanomie.wordpress.com)
• Choosing Wisdom (beyondanomie.wordpress.com)

Choosing Wisdom

Hermes Trismegistus, floor mosaic, Siena Cathedral, via Wikipedia

‘I will build the Zodiac…

The lives of men,

from birth to final destruction,

shall be controlled

by the hidden workings of this mechanism.’

Destiny and Necessity are cemented together.

Destiny sows the seed.

Necessity compels the result.

Few can escape their fate

or guard against

the terrible influence of the Zodiac…

If, however,

the rational part of a man’s soul

is illuminated…

… the working of these gods is as nothing.

But such men are few.

Most are led and driven by the gods

which govern earthly life…

To my way of thinking, however,

it is our duty not simply to acquiesce

in our human state,

but, through intense contemplation

of divine things,

to detach ourselves from our merely mortal nature.

Hermes Trismegistus in The Hermetica, as translated by Timothy Freke & Peter Gandy

Borrowed from the library of Dr Neel Burton

Compiled thousands of years ago at the time of the Pharoahs, is there any more prescient statement of Man’s current condition?

Beyond the mortal influences of genetic nature (Destiny) and environmental nurture with its unconscious influence on behaviour (Necessity), lies choice.

It is up to us to choose to think, to act freely, to gain insight, and so also gain Enlightenment.

Few make that choice.

Hope, Happiness and the Potential of Man

Friedrich Schiller, Image via Wikipedia

It is commonly suggested that Man can be characterised as either an Introvert or an Extrovert. The validity of making such a distinction rests on the potential utility such taxonomy may bring; I am not interested in abstruse cataloguing without meaningful purpose. Does the attempt to divide Man into two broad groups help us understand him and the challenges he faces? Will it make him happy?

Carl Jung, drawing partly on Friedrich Schiller’s fertile correspondence with Goethe, suggested that the conscious mind of the introvert is driven largely by his ego (his internal sense of self)  while his sense of “relatedness” (affective/emotional responses) to objects in the external world is diminished. The extrovert, by contrast, is captivated by the world and his relationship to it, and the ego becomes secondary to this. Thus, “the extrovert discovers himself in the fluctuating and the changeable; the introvert in the constant”. Affectivity is “positively painful” to the introvert, while for the extrovert “it must on no account be missed”.

There is no better statement of this difference in approach to the world than that expressed when Schiller, the archetypal introvert, wrote to extroverted Goethe: “You have a kingdom to rule, and I only a somewhat numerous family of ideas which I would like to expand into a little universe”.

The introvert feels driven to externalise all the ideas he possesses within his mind, and make them manifest in the outside world. The extrovert yearns to internalise the world and consume it utterly. At their extremes, therefore, both the introvert and extrovert are autocrats, ruthlessly desiring absolute complete control, and unable to settle for nothing less.

A crucial point is that these drives and responses are functions of the conscious mind; they are how we overtly interpret in the world. But our opposite, inferior, nature can be found in the relatively submerged subconscious mind. So the extrovert finds harmony not just when emotionally exposed to a changing and vibrant external world ecology, but when he can come to intellectual terms with the impact and meaning of those emotions upon him. And the introvert waxes lyrical when he feels the emotional pleasure of appreciating an elegant rational system.

It is when the conscious drive moves in the same direction as the subconscious that this true pleasure results. Unfortunately, many of the systems in which we function do not encourage this dual approach to life. Schiller noted this, Jung remarked that it was worse by his time, and I may be bold enough to suggest that the situation has deteriorated further since. Jung said, “the differentiated function procures the possibility of a collective existence, but not that satisfaction and joie de vivre which the development of individual values alone can give”. Or, the need to earn money means that people gravitate to the roles and professions they are superficially productive at; the jobs that make the most use of their introverted or extraverted nature. They do these jobs to the practical satisfaction of their superiors, but not to the satisfaction of their inner self which demands more than this, and so they are unhappy.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, being a crisper wordsmith than I, phrased it thus: “You must choose between making a Man or a Citizen; you cannot make both at once”.

If both conscious and subconscious drives exists, both must be satisfied for our minds to be at peace. The challenge is therefore to find ways of living that allow for the exploration of this dual, yet intertwined, nature of our psyche. Schiller proposed that “creative play” or “wise play” (such as that involved in appreciating or making Art, or Beauty) would enable this. Both the extrovert and the introvert can express their inferior, subsconscious, selves through this process. Indeed, Jung postulated that this process is a conduit to expressing an inner symbolic representation of our true (whole) self.

The trouble is that to be wise when playing suggests the requirement of insight into what the end-point of our play should be. And that is a very circular argument as it is the creative play itself that is supposed to align our conscious and subconscious minds in this fashion. It is suggestive of an iterative process of incrementally improving wisdom and insight, whereby the act of play opens new avenues of thought, which in turn suggest new types of play, and so on.

It is worth pausing here to note that most people are not yet ready to even begin to play wisely. So Jung warns: “for them seriousness must occupy the middle place instead of play”; they must first think about their rational and emotional natures and the tension between them, before they are ready to use creativity to begin to meld the different parts together. This again reinforces the value of insight, and encourages self-reflection.

But if one is ready, the potential reward is individuation and self-actualisation. True individuality results from the ability to both be, and be separate from, the two opposing functions of our conscious and unconscious minds. Interaction between individuals would only occur when creative play was the aim of the meeting.

Is this achievable?

I suggest not in this lifetime! To be so fully cognisant and accepting of ourselves may theoretically be possible, but suggests to me such a differentiation from humanity as to be divinity.

But think of this: Man is the only beast to even contemplate such heights. We have the gall to wish to strive beyond ourselves, to fulfil our ultimate potential, to become god-like. The only collective community that would satisfy us would be the liberty of Mount Olympus. That is the truly remarkable thing about our species, and why typology and psychology are not mere taxonomy, but tools we can use to understand our potential.

It is this hope within us that fires our creativity. Eternal happiness may be the ultimate reward for all that effort, but for now, it is enough to know that splendid things will result from just the creative potential.

Roman Roulette

Image via Wikipedia

There are times where one must simply choose: which fork in the road of life do we follow?

Often, these crucial decisions can be delayed or the terms of the choice reframed so as to offer a more palatable contrast. And by planning ahead and understanding both yourself and your hopes for the future, the right answer can become self-evident.

But sometimes, even the wisest and most artful can find themselves faced with a crossroads that they have done little to prepare for, and a solution must be extemporised.

So it was with Josephus, a commander of the Jews in their rebellion against Roman rule in the 1st century AD. Legions led first by Vespasian and later his son Titus (both future Emperors) were wreaking revenge across Judaea, razing cities and massacring local populations. Josephus and 40 of his comrades found themselves cornered in a hideout in the city of Jotapata. He had predicted that the city would fall on the 47th day of the Roman siege, and his prediction had now come true.

Josephus, a moderate man, wanted to surrender and seek clemency. His colleagues felt death by suicide was the only honourable option. A man at ease with words, Josephus attempted to persuade them away from this decision, arguing it would be against God’s will to suicide. He failed in that line of argument, but convinced them that rather than each man killing himself, they should instead kill each other as this would be less likely to offend God.

We will never know whether what happened next was pure luck or brilliant inspiration, though the circumstances are all so odd that I rather suspect the latter. Josephus said that they should all stand in a circle and then every third man should be killed by his neighbour.

The brilliance lies in where Josephus stood in that circle. By positioning himself correctly, he ensured that every time the count went round, he was never the third man, and so was never killed. He and one other man were the last two survivors and with only one man left to persuade, he was now able to argue successfully in favour of surrender.

He lived, became a Roman citizen and left several important histories of the age behind. Some have painted him as a traitor, others as an opportunist. Perhaps he was. But I have to admire his skill and tenacity in surviving such a lethal situation. True, we’re unlikely to ever be in the exact same situation (though if you are, I recommend standing either 16th or 31st in the circle), but the ability to improvise and to persuade remains vital to survival.

The painting is The Triumph of Titus, 1885, by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, and can be clicked for a larger image

A Glittering Festive Tree

Susanoo, God of Storms, feuded violently with his sister Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess.

Susanoo’s actions proved so distasteful to Amaterasu that she retreated to a cave, hiding her light from the world and plunging it into the darkness of winter.

At the height of winter, the other gods of the Japanese Shinto pantheon planned to rouse her from her cave. They adorned a tree with jewels and bronze, burnished to a mirror shine.

Lured out by the racket of their merry dancing around the festive tree, Amaterasu peered out from her cave, and the ray of light so released was the Dawn. It glanced off the mirror and Amaterasu was fascinated by the beautiful face that looked back at her. She came out of the cave, and the other Gods quickly barred her retreat, ensuring the end of the long cold darkness.

On Christmas Eve, as millions follow the ancient pagan German tradition of decorating a tree with shiny baubles, albeit now to welcome the birth of Christ, it’s interesting to note that there is a distant echo of this adorning of a tree to wake a deity in a very different culture.

A Very Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it!

Wandering the Desert

At least three world religions were born in the Desert.

Judaism, Christianity and Islam all owe their origins to the baking heat and sparse environs of the desert landscape. Abraham, Moses, John the Baptist, Jesus Christ, Mohammed; they all had their greatest revelations when alone in desert (or at least very barren) landscapes. Depending on their leaning, the religously-minded would suggest that this is because communion with God is only possible either when Man divests himself of physical distractions and so can focus on spiritual matters, or when he undergoes sufficient physical and emotional turmoil to turn to God for salvation.

A secularist reading of the pattern would suggest that these individuals – already unusual or eccentric, and possibly predisposed to odd beliefs and experiences – sought out solitude because that predisposition led them to be dissatisfied with a mundane life. And then in that harsh environment, they became sufficiently physically distressed to become delirious, an experience they interpreted as spiritual in nature.

Whichever reading is true (and in the end, the answer that satisfies you most boils down to which interpretative model you have most faith in), wandering the desert has acquired symbolic significance as a rite of passage. Whether literal or metaphorical, the idea that Man has to separate himself from the rest of the world to achieve higher purpose is a theme common to both religion and mythology, as well as being present in several schools of philosophy.

My previous entry elicited an intriguing comment from Touch2Touch which tessellated elegantly with some of my own pre-existing thoughts, and inspired me to write a post on the theme of separation from others as a result of finding contentment, security and tranquillity in one’s own internal assessment of any given situation.

Social networks (using the term in its broadest sense, not the e-variety) can certainly help those who feel lost. They provide a means of temporarily laying off responsibility for one’s own actions, decision-making and emotional stability to others. Support systems can be vital in this context, but I always find myself cringing when people talk of supportive social networks in a longer-term sense. To me, this attitude belies the essential meaning of the word “support”. Before wanting support, the key question must surely be: “support to do what?”

I would suggest that the end goal is not to be permanently supported by others, constantly having to use friendships and acquaintances to buttress your own emotional and intellectual needs, but to feel strong and comfortable enough in one’s own skin to be independent of that need.

This requires uncommon clarity of thought and purpose, as well as an unusual degree of insight. It is also unlikely to result without a intense amount of self-confidence in the method by which these individuals assess the world. This will seem to border on arrogance, except that observers will notice the world bending around these individuals, moulding itself to their will, rather than hitting them head-on in a violent crash as inevitably happens to the genuinely arrogant.

Wandering the desert is not so painful for these individuals as it would be for others. They have an internal moral compass that generally points them in a direction they’re happy with, and seem to carry around a portable oasis that nourishes and refreshes them when need arises. They enjoy meeting fellow travellers; companionship and hospitality are good traditions and can bring fresh news. And sometimes they even travel together for a while with the more pleasant and wise of their fellow nomads. But eventually the call of the empty dune summons them back to a solitary journey.

The great unanswered question should be: “what lapse of thought called the prophets of world religion back from the desert to commune once more with an unwise and ungrateful population?”

The Happiness Equation

The Ancients worshipped a varied pantheon with a myriad of priests. In a creditable effort to simplify matters, people decided that a more streamlined arrangement was needed. After a temporary flirtation with a Trinity, the modern world setted on dualism, it being easier to practise as it has one fewer deity to remember. The twin gods of Money and Time have fought for the souls of men ever since.

Money has the High Priests of the Square Mile and the Central Banks, worshipping in cathedrals dedicated to either Keynes or Hayek (there being something of a sectarian schism between those two tribes), whilst Time has New Age Gurus, the Remnant of the Older Religions and the ever-thriving self-help and positive psychology industry fighting in its corner. Management Consultants merrily straddle the netherworld betwixt the two religions, drawing on elements of each mythology to subtly further their vampiric aim of feeding off the life energy of everyone else…

Both religions offer the prospect of happiness. Put simply: the more money you have, the more of a shield you have from the viccissitudes of life and the more power you have to acquire things that please you; and the more time you have, the more opportunity you have to enjoy your purchases and to be with those whose company you appreciate. Both approaches therefore essentially worship the same god behind the curtains: Control.

The most fundamental thing people seek is a sense of control over their lives: a sense of choice, and of decisions freely made from a position of insight.

Money and Time are just proxy measures of this inner sense of calm. Like any proxy measure, the degree of linkage can vary. I’ve blogged before that the relationship of Money to Happiness is sigmoidal, with a significant “flat” part in the graph where only small incremental increases in happiness occur between solid (but modest) incomes and truly astronomical ones. I’ve also disccussed how being more efficient can lead to more free time, but the question still arises of what to actually do with that free time in order to be happy.

Money and Time are necessary but not sufficient conditions for a sense of control over one’s destiny. Some achieve this by paradoxically ceding all control to another entity: a God, a Political Party, a Cause. Despite my tongue-in-cheek commentary in the first couple of paragraphs, absolute faith in an extraneous entity remains a potent way of reaching a sense of destiny, and so, inner peace.

However, those of us whose personality and natural inclination veers away from the prospect of giving up our individuality to a larger body, this is cannot be a solution. Religion, Politics, and Causes offer happiness only if you can give of yourself fully to them so your own individual existence no longer matters, and only the wider project does. A cult member is blissfully happy in their belief system, but a chink of doubt quickly leads to collapse of the edifice.

For the rest of us, we have to look within to create our own sense of destiny and meaning, and so achieve happiness. Money and Time form the solid foundations, Insight provides the labour, and Control creates the conduit to Happiness.

The Baroness, the Taliban and the guy in the wheelchair

I always enjoy reading the latest twists and turns of Professor Susan Greenfield‘s (sorry, Baroness Greenfield’s) career. Partly because she was an excellent and inspiring tutor during my undergraduate days, partly because she has an awesomely quirky dress sense (her red leather trousers were quite infamous), and partly just because it reads like a good melodrama.

One of the more striking episodes revolved around her time as Director of the Royal Insitution. Its first female Director, she pushed through some fairly aggressive capital projects and was later dismissed from her position when the capital investments failed to recoup costs as expected. She then went on to accuse them of sexism and launched a legal action against them.

The latest story we can now add to her corpus of headline-grabbing stories is perhaps even odder. Stephen Hawking’s well-publicised recent change of heart on the (lack of a) need for God to kickstart Creation is interesting and mildly controversial but hardly justifies the use an emotionally-charged comparison to the Taliban. I do rather agree with the reporter’s insight in the last paragraph of the linked article that it reads more as a dig at Richard Dawkins’ “militant atheism” than at Hawkings’ milder statement.

Dawkins is not a character I have much sympathy for, though I should emphasise that I don’t believe I’ve spoken to him personally, at least not at sufficient length for me to recall it. But his public pronouncements on the question of whether God exists have the passionate fixity of belief more commonly associated with zealotry – Islamic or otherwise – rather than rational objectivity.

Note, I use the term “fixity of belief”, not “delusion”. His publicity-seeking phrase “The God Delusion”, as used in his best-selling book, is certainly one of the more flagrant abuses of psychiatric terminology in recent times.

To quote the DSM, a delusion is: “A false belief based on incorrect inference about external reality that is firmly sustained despite what almost everybody else believes and despite what constitutes incontrovertible and obvious proof or evidence to the contrary. The belief is not ordinarily accepted by other members of the person’s culture or subculture.” (emphasis mine)

As such, since there many people in our culture with religious faith, Dawkins claim that such belief is delusional in nature cannot be correct. It may be non-factual, but even if so, it would still not be delusional. To use inaccurate and distorted terminology to stigmatise and condemn those who believe differently to him is an act more consistent with unthinking faith in one’s own position rather than a rational objective position.

Hawking, it should be noted, makes no such exaggerated claim.