Have you ever asked yourself why tigers are orange? It's hard to imagine how evolution could create such indomitable predators, then handicap them with neon incandescence to warn off the elk, antelope and water buffalo on which they prey.
Here's why it's a non-issue: Most prey animals have dichromatic vision, making them red-green colorblind. So instead of attracting attention like an Andy Warhol lithograph, the tiger's vertical stripes blend into the high grass and forest undergrowth to render it nearly invisible.
But that returns us to our original problem: What evolutionary quirk made tigers orange if their coloring affords them no advantage whatsoever?
You can ask the same question about other animals and natural phenomena as well. From tropical fish to the peacock's tail to the rings of Saturn, scientists struggle to explain the breathtaking artistry of our universe. Why are some creatures far more striking than necessary to attract mates, while others are camouflaged to escape predators? Shouldn't we expect to find consistent rules governing our world?
There is little consensus among the scientific community. But some have coined a name for the phenomenon, which is this week's entry into the Ethical Lexicon:
Gratuitous Beauty | noun
Aesthetic features, patterns, or experiences in nature and the universe that exceed what is strictly necessary for biological survival, reproduction, or practical utility.
One might argue that aestheticism benefits our psychological well-being. After all, don't we all recoil from the utilitarian sameness and soul-sucking functionality of Soviet-style architecture? That alone should testify to the value of beauty for its own sake.
But animals don't pause to reflect upon the wonders of nature that surround them. Many creatures do respond to symmetry and some favor bright colors — but only to a point. They merely interpret these as signs of good health and sound genetics so they can successfully pass on their DNA to the next generation.
It is human beings alone whose moods and dispositions respond to the natural beauty that is, to other creatures, gratuitous. Which means that during the 500 million years between the Cambrian Explosion and the appearance of Homo sapiens, there was scant evolutionary advantage in phenomena like the intricate painting of the tiger's coat or the elaborate plumage of the peacock's tail.
From a human evolutionary perspective, we could even make the case that beauty is not only gratuitous but counterbeneficial. Attractive facial features reveal nothing about physical strength, dexterity, intelligence, longevity, fertility or such noble qualities as loyalty, integrity and compassion.
From a psychological point of view, however, there is one incalculable benefit to beauty even when it serves no evolutionary purpose. And that benefit is inspiration.
What drives us to travel great distances to see waterfalls, canyons, mountains, rainforests and the northern lights? Quite simply, we want to feel awe.
Yes, the Taj Mahal is possibly the most beautiful structure in the world. The World Trade Center is magnificent and, even more so, Dubai's Burj Khalifa. Budapest's Chain Bridge is truly wondrous, as are Buckingham Palace and the Hoover Dam.
But none of these can compare to the natural marvels of creation: the majestic beauty of the Grand Tetons; the raw power of Niagara Falls; the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. To gaze upon the Milky Way is to hold eternity in the palm of your hand.
Even a walk in the park provides psychological benefits, according to the National Library of Medicine. Light reflecting off the water and filtering through the trees, the sounds of wind through the leaves and water over stone, the hum of insects and the melody of birdsong — all of these ease the stress and anxiety that accompany the accelerated pace and sensory oppressiveness of urban life.
We live in an age when the pressures and disappointments of the modern world afflict us with moral confusion and drive us to the brink of psychosis, when bitterness and discontent inflame crowds to mindlessly turn their rage against structures of historic beauty and cultural eminence. But the cure is woven into the fabric of our world, reminding us to pause, to pay attention and, most of all, to experience humility and awe as we behold the extraordinary grandeur of creation.
See more by Yonason Goldson and features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists; visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.
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