(As many of you know, I have recently entered law school. I hope to turn this blog in some respects into a "law blog" (with the help of my good friend, bob loblaw, of course) in which I can speculate and think out my opinions of some of the cases we read and the topics we discuss. Today's topic concerns property rights of one's body, organs and tissue. While I know nothing regarding property (yet!), I felt compelled to write pertaining our discussion which focused mainly on the question of whether or not people should be able to sell parts of their body.)
On Self-ownership and Body Preperty Rights: In light of Moore v Regents of the University of California
When considering this issue, it seems right that one is in possession of one’s own self, and to the extent that one remains in possession of one’s self and products derived therefrom, one should be free to dispose of those objects as one sees fit. Given my admittedly novice understanding of the law so far, I also feel that the courts would be the best venue to set this kind of precedent.
One of the rights of ownership is to dispose of property, and there is ultimately no compelling reason to forbid individuals from the sale of this property, if they so choose. A main argument of opponents is to appeal to the slippery slope, that perhaps this would lead to some sort of shadowy market for body parts (indeed, such things, albeit illegally, already exist) and perhaps even, one might envision that a new slave trade might emerge. Debtors might be called upon for their organs if they could not make monetary payments and all other sorts of nightmare situations might arise. But, the reader should halt at this term, because we must expose the slippery slope for what it is: at base, a logical fallacy.
Perhaps the court is being this far-sighted, but if one tries hard enough, one can imagine an exception to every rule, this is a basic concept. If this were not the case, one could imagine the courts might have already written all the rules. Then, judges and legislators could rest at ease, there being no further foreseeable (and in this case, possible) scenarios. In fact, all of the Universe could reasonably be thought to be nearing a time where it was completely drawn under the yoke of Understanding, that Man would have become Master of the Universe. But, sadly, this simply is not the case.
Nor is it the case that the events imagined within the slippery slope are inevitable. In fact, many of them simply do not follow, to put it mildly. For the very same reason the courts refuse to set a precedent in this particular case, the notion that a new legitimacy might be found for slavery is extremely unlikely. The courts felt that Legislature is the proper venue for such decisions, that they are subject to greater accountability and pressures to reflect the views of their constituents. However, real inspection reveals that they are also the subjects of great pressures from lobbying groups and from within their own party. Recent events have highlighted the extent to which legislation has become a partisan issue and not a matter of conscience. But, if we return to our utopian Congress, given the current moral views regarding such topics, we could easily presume that they would not ever sign any bill that legalized slavery or legitimized a black market of organs. Even in an ideal system, this argument for legislation barely holds. And, we are far from ideal.
Fortunately, even if the courts did rule that sale of body parts by those who were in possession of them (ie-the person to whom they were a part) should be allowed in toto and in all regards, this does still not necessarily lead to the apocalyptic doomsday that has been foretold. Court law is subservient to statutory law, which already restricts the means in which tissue may be transferred (such as the Uniform Anatomical Gift Act), and as a last check, the Constitution itself has outlawed slavery. These rules are checks to the free reign that detractors imagine in their slippery slope, and surely there are many more.
(in case you don’t believe me…)
13th Amendment to the Constitution
“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction. “
Capitalism rests on the theory of a free market, and it premises that one may sell one’s commodities to gain capital. This should not be restricted, except in cases when it interferes with someone else’s rights or perhaps when it conflicts with existing law. Moral considerations must be taken with a grain of salt, as they are only a temporary reflection of the current social and cultural norms. Morals are constantly changing, and therefore cannot serve as a consistent and fundamental basis for the law. There simply is too much flexibility in what we view as moral, and what we may feel is right or wrong may change given a different set of circumstances, even when we preserve the relations and interactions of the original scenario.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Anno Novo
The seasons change. Nature presses onward, but the change is not always a smooth and serene progression as we may like, a gradual blissful ambling from Summer to Fall and Winter, like a graceful aging. Life is instead punctuated by dramatic, often violent changes only after which a calm slowly sets in as homeostasis is renewed. These changes are permanent, the scars remain, but in time they become the very things they once marred. They melt into the character of the land, of the life altered.
And, as we are but elements of Nature, our lives are no different. We experience these events, whether miraculous or traumatic, and they shape who we are. They are the forks in the road; usually they are born of the decisions we make. They are of our own design. Our choices will echo through history, our own at least. Given this gravity and sense of permanence, it is no wonder that they are terrifying. Yet also, they are exhilarating. Despite the fear, perhaps even mortal terror, we must choose. We must press on, just as the Hands of Time and the change of seasons. Death becomes us, but not in the usual sense. Here, it is death of our old bodies as we transcend. If we choose wisely, we are like the caterpillar, we shed our skins and become something new, something beautiful. This is the metamorphosis. We will be changed, but, unlike the caterpillar, we can choose the form and the path of our changing.
The way of Life is not to stagnate, and no matter how content we are or how afraid we may be of what is to come, change will arrive. It may be as the cloaked Shade, rapping its bony, spectral finger upon our door. It will enter! We may as well invite it in, so that we may see just what it is we are so afraid of. We cannot know the future or the outcomes of our decisions for certain, but we can help to shape our destiny. Indeed, we do, the question is whether we realize it or not.
As for me, I know that I have reached the capacity of my present form. That I must shed this skin and rise anew is certain. This does not mean that I will be someone else. I will still exist, and I will still contain all those things that have made me who I am. I will be somewhere in between the completely cumulative person that we casually assume makes us who we are and that radical destruction that Foucault idealized between his epistemes. Obviously, this is not a clean break, but rather a sharp twist in direction. It is the mountain face rising upon the plateau of which lately I have walked.
Perhaps, as I am facing this sheer wall, this period of violent yet willful change, I am merely hoping to steel my nerve. Doubtless, this is true. But, as I prepare to stare this beast in his ghastly face, ghastly because unknown, I realize the truth and necessity in these words. Though my hands may tremble, and my heart race, I must be strong. I will forge ahead because I know that on the other side of this great journey, beyond challenge and adversity, lies a better world and a new sun. I have seen a glimpse of this new vista, and it is breathtaking. And, though I will be changed, I will always retain what I am right now. But, I will be of a higher dimension, a greater quality, and I will never cease to strive towards my dreams. This is not acquiescence, this is not a giving up. This is my will, and this is my choice. And, as change is a sort of death, (for what else can arise from this but a birth of new realms?), I may hope to echo Socrates, when he said "Now we go our separate ways, I to death and you to life. Which is better, no man can tell".
And, as we are but elements of Nature, our lives are no different. We experience these events, whether miraculous or traumatic, and they shape who we are. They are the forks in the road; usually they are born of the decisions we make. They are of our own design. Our choices will echo through history, our own at least. Given this gravity and sense of permanence, it is no wonder that they are terrifying. Yet also, they are exhilarating. Despite the fear, perhaps even mortal terror, we must choose. We must press on, just as the Hands of Time and the change of seasons. Death becomes us, but not in the usual sense. Here, it is death of our old bodies as we transcend. If we choose wisely, we are like the caterpillar, we shed our skins and become something new, something beautiful. This is the metamorphosis. We will be changed, but, unlike the caterpillar, we can choose the form and the path of our changing.
The way of Life is not to stagnate, and no matter how content we are or how afraid we may be of what is to come, change will arrive. It may be as the cloaked Shade, rapping its bony, spectral finger upon our door. It will enter! We may as well invite it in, so that we may see just what it is we are so afraid of. We cannot know the future or the outcomes of our decisions for certain, but we can help to shape our destiny. Indeed, we do, the question is whether we realize it or not.
As for me, I know that I have reached the capacity of my present form. That I must shed this skin and rise anew is certain. This does not mean that I will be someone else. I will still exist, and I will still contain all those things that have made me who I am. I will be somewhere in between the completely cumulative person that we casually assume makes us who we are and that radical destruction that Foucault idealized between his epistemes. Obviously, this is not a clean break, but rather a sharp twist in direction. It is the mountain face rising upon the plateau of which lately I have walked.
Perhaps, as I am facing this sheer wall, this period of violent yet willful change, I am merely hoping to steel my nerve. Doubtless, this is true. But, as I prepare to stare this beast in his ghastly face, ghastly because unknown, I realize the truth and necessity in these words. Though my hands may tremble, and my heart race, I must be strong. I will forge ahead because I know that on the other side of this great journey, beyond challenge and adversity, lies a better world and a new sun. I have seen a glimpse of this new vista, and it is breathtaking. And, though I will be changed, I will always retain what I am right now. But, I will be of a higher dimension, a greater quality, and I will never cease to strive towards my dreams. This is not acquiescence, this is not a giving up. This is my will, and this is my choice. And, as change is a sort of death, (for what else can arise from this but a birth of new realms?), I may hope to echo Socrates, when he said "Now we go our separate ways, I to death and you to life. Which is better, no man can tell".
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
On Animal Consciousness
(I have just learned that my family's dog, sadly, will have to be put down. He has lived a good many years, by dog reckoning, and I hope that he feels content. Though he will probably not realize what is happening until too late, I hope also that he understands that we have come to this very difficult decision because we care for him and want to ease his suffering. Since animal matters are on my mind, I feel the least I can do to honor him is to finally put pen to paper (so to speak) on an issue which I have long pondered: animal consciousness...)
To begin with, I make no apologies nor will I mince words with my conclusion: I firmly believe that all animals are conscious beings. To claim otherwise seems to me to be spoken from a position of anthrocentrism and profound ignorance. Of all the many contrary explanations and theories I have heard, I have found none to be satisfying.
It may be easy to believe that humans are the only conscious beings on the planet. We "know" that we are conscious, and beyond that, have used this consciousness to conquer the Earth, our predestined domain. But, one should see that the assumptions underlying these beliefs are overwhelming. Many may cite sources such as the early Judeo-Christian-Islamic texts, specifically the Old Testament as stating that (God) has given Man dominion over the planet, and this certainly seems fortuitous as we find ourselves to be just this privileged species. In claims of this sort, these texts are often corroborated by other ancient mythologies. But, appeals to these sources would require a confirmation of the utter authenticity of them first, which is a battle that continues to rage without end in sight. So, simply because (God) says it is so, is not an acceptable argument from an objective point of view. What this thought process does point out to us is that it sets up a hierarchy with ourselves at the top. This feature, ethnocentrism, is well-documented in cultural anthropology and needs to be examined very critically. Of course, a tribe will envision themselves as exemplars of proper living and the pinnacle of progress. The point can never be stated enough: one would not hold a belief unless one believed it to be true. And so then the question becomes: Why do we believe this? In a similar way, the claim that only humans have souls is equally ridiculous and offensive. That we, a small race that has existed for barely a blink of the Universe's eye living on an unassuming planet on the outskirts of one out of billions of galaxies, that this group is the only creatures possessed of souls is unfounded and reeks of self-worship. If souls even exist, what basis have we for such conceit? We are obviously of utmost importance to ourselves, but to the Universe, we barely exist at all, we are as good as invisible. In all likelihood, we will destroy ourselves long before we have a chance to appreciably impact the cosmos, if such a thing is even possible.
There have been a good deal of studies into animal intelligence and, by implication, animal consciousness. The troubling thing to me is the extent to which these results seem to strongly indicate learned behavioral and social adaptations amongst other species, not to mention some sophisticated problem-solving skills, and yet researchers still, seemingly without reason, practically fall over themselves scrambling to invent convenient explanations for why such and such a behavior only appears to be learned but is actually instinctual. I once was giving a speech about what I believe to be the Universal equivalence of humans with the other animals, which I take to be an issue about perspective, when, to mock a point I had made, one of the audience called out: "Well, have you ever seen a cricket driving a car?" Disregarding, the sheer physical impossibility of this absurd "argument", I was troubled because I saw several others nodding their heads in ignorant assent, as if somehow this nonsensical point had truly proven the case. Troubled because I knew that this line of illogical thinking actually reflects (though also cariciatures) a fatal error in the way most of us assess intelligence.
I suspect that the problem lies in a deeply ingrained unconscious attitude in society's perceptions that has pervaded throughout Western civilization (possibly in large part due to the very same texts I cited earlier). It is that "they" are different from us, the "animals" are beneath us. We are badly in need of a paradigm shift. That we even speak in the language of "animal consciousness" as if it is a thing much different from "human consciousness" indicates a profound linguistic and physical bias which is embedded deep within our cultural unconscious. We fail to realize that we are cut of the same mortal cloth as they. We are no more than animals, perhaps we are the most animalistic, certainly we can be the most vicious and beastly. And at the same time, we are confusing. We commit unspeakable atrocity and, almost in the same breath, indescribable beauty. We are the beautiful savage.
We measure a rat's ability to navigate a maze or a rhesus monkey's skills in constructing a solution to a dilemma, yet, the real problem is that we have designed the test. As such, it is inherently biased to measure the things that we, as humans have designated as intelligence, in short, human intelligence. It is quite possible that, if the tables were turned and a rat devised a similar game of "rat intelligence," a human would fail miserably and fall in disgrace among the ranks of the other "dumb" animals of which rats had mounted the apex. To claim that intelligence is a measure of an ability to deal with novel situations hardly helps because the sheer persistence of many species of animals throughout much longer ages than humans and a greater degree of environmental and climactic shift would seem to make a stronger case for the species's intelligence than humans. That we have dictated what intelligence is and tried to impose this definition upon other species who have no experience or need to think in the way that we do is illogical and irrelevant. Even our conception of our own intelligence is constantly changing. In recent years, we have vastly amended the ways we quantify intelligence among humans based on varying skill sets, so is it ridiculous to think the same might be true for other species?
So, what of the consciousness question? An argument against the consciousness of a fruit fly was given that their brains simply possess too few neurons to be able to give rise to anything so complex as conscious thought. The mechanisms that flies demonstrate are like the unconscious workings of a simple machine. This begs the question: what does one define as consciousness? Is it an awareness of self, of deeds, of desires? If this is so, it seems difficult to claim that even a fruit fly lacks consciousness. It flies about, careening wildly through its brief lifespan searching madly for food and a mate. These drives probably consume most of its "thoughts" (for lack of a better term), yet can we truly call this unconscious? Do we know, and how can we prove that a fly's brain doesn't register things such as: "There's food over there! How can I get to it?" Indeed, even this simple primitive thought demonstrates some level of consciousness. By the very virtue that it acknowledges the concept of self, which must be presumed by recognizing that there is something else which is not already incorporated inside of whatever is doing the thinking, the fly has become conscious. The concept of self must be understood once any creature realizes that some thing exists apart from itself, in a way, before it even knows it has a self. This designation of something as other necessitates a realization of Self, it needs a context in which to set this other entity. And this, I believe, is all that is needed to establish the rudiments of consciousness.
A more agreeable hypothesis has been proposed that perhaps Consciousness is not an all-or-nothing switch, that instead it is gradated and a matter of degree. It seems more acceptable to claim that a fly is simply less-conscious than a dog or human rather than being a completely unconscious automaton. The range of actions seem to indicate that something is different between all of these animals, yet perhaps it is even too much to try to guess which state of consciousness is "higher". In some ways, a fly may be said to be more conscious than a human. It is focused on these perhaps one or two things which are the principal drives and motives of its life, whereas we humans are so confused and pulled in all directions, constantly, perhaps perpetually distracted from the true and essential purpose of life, which is simply to live. It may be possible that flies actually represent a more evolved form of life than we, no politics, no emotions, no imposed structures, simplicity defined.
However, I, for one, believe that this misses out on the subtleties of existence, which are the true pleasures in living. They are the reasons why we seek companionship in the first place, why we find so much in common with animals, why we consider them our pets. We are not to say what is better or higher, things simply are. We feel a strong desire to engage in all of the things that we can to fill up our lives, and that means the elated highs of love just as much as the sad, grim reality of mortality. This is our consciousness, the ways in which we diverge from the path of autotomia. We cannot help but feel it, it sustains us, even through the loss of those we hold so dear. Since we cannot hope to win in this game of mortality, the best we may be able to do is to recognize the ephemeral nature of everything around us. In this way, we can hold things more dear, savor each moment and relish in the opportunity of experience. We must learn to "drink life to the lees" before life turns to dust.
To begin with, I make no apologies nor will I mince words with my conclusion: I firmly believe that all animals are conscious beings. To claim otherwise seems to me to be spoken from a position of anthrocentrism and profound ignorance. Of all the many contrary explanations and theories I have heard, I have found none to be satisfying.
It may be easy to believe that humans are the only conscious beings on the planet. We "know" that we are conscious, and beyond that, have used this consciousness to conquer the Earth, our predestined domain. But, one should see that the assumptions underlying these beliefs are overwhelming. Many may cite sources such as the early Judeo-Christian-Islamic texts, specifically the Old Testament as stating that (God) has given Man dominion over the planet, and this certainly seems fortuitous as we find ourselves to be just this privileged species. In claims of this sort, these texts are often corroborated by other ancient mythologies. But, appeals to these sources would require a confirmation of the utter authenticity of them first, which is a battle that continues to rage without end in sight. So, simply because (God) says it is so, is not an acceptable argument from an objective point of view. What this thought process does point out to us is that it sets up a hierarchy with ourselves at the top. This feature, ethnocentrism, is well-documented in cultural anthropology and needs to be examined very critically. Of course, a tribe will envision themselves as exemplars of proper living and the pinnacle of progress. The point can never be stated enough: one would not hold a belief unless one believed it to be true. And so then the question becomes: Why do we believe this? In a similar way, the claim that only humans have souls is equally ridiculous and offensive. That we, a small race that has existed for barely a blink of the Universe's eye living on an unassuming planet on the outskirts of one out of billions of galaxies, that this group is the only creatures possessed of souls is unfounded and reeks of self-worship. If souls even exist, what basis have we for such conceit? We are obviously of utmost importance to ourselves, but to the Universe, we barely exist at all, we are as good as invisible. In all likelihood, we will destroy ourselves long before we have a chance to appreciably impact the cosmos, if such a thing is even possible.
There have been a good deal of studies into animal intelligence and, by implication, animal consciousness. The troubling thing to me is the extent to which these results seem to strongly indicate learned behavioral and social adaptations amongst other species, not to mention some sophisticated problem-solving skills, and yet researchers still, seemingly without reason, practically fall over themselves scrambling to invent convenient explanations for why such and such a behavior only appears to be learned but is actually instinctual. I once was giving a speech about what I believe to be the Universal equivalence of humans with the other animals, which I take to be an issue about perspective, when, to mock a point I had made, one of the audience called out: "Well, have you ever seen a cricket driving a car?" Disregarding, the sheer physical impossibility of this absurd "argument", I was troubled because I saw several others nodding their heads in ignorant assent, as if somehow this nonsensical point had truly proven the case. Troubled because I knew that this line of illogical thinking actually reflects (though also cariciatures) a fatal error in the way most of us assess intelligence.
I suspect that the problem lies in a deeply ingrained unconscious attitude in society's perceptions that has pervaded throughout Western civilization (possibly in large part due to the very same texts I cited earlier). It is that "they" are different from us, the "animals" are beneath us. We are badly in need of a paradigm shift. That we even speak in the language of "animal consciousness" as if it is a thing much different from "human consciousness" indicates a profound linguistic and physical bias which is embedded deep within our cultural unconscious. We fail to realize that we are cut of the same mortal cloth as they. We are no more than animals, perhaps we are the most animalistic, certainly we can be the most vicious and beastly. And at the same time, we are confusing. We commit unspeakable atrocity and, almost in the same breath, indescribable beauty. We are the beautiful savage.
We measure a rat's ability to navigate a maze or a rhesus monkey's skills in constructing a solution to a dilemma, yet, the real problem is that we have designed the test. As such, it is inherently biased to measure the things that we, as humans have designated as intelligence, in short, human intelligence. It is quite possible that, if the tables were turned and a rat devised a similar game of "rat intelligence," a human would fail miserably and fall in disgrace among the ranks of the other "dumb" animals of which rats had mounted the apex. To claim that intelligence is a measure of an ability to deal with novel situations hardly helps because the sheer persistence of many species of animals throughout much longer ages than humans and a greater degree of environmental and climactic shift would seem to make a stronger case for the species's intelligence than humans. That we have dictated what intelligence is and tried to impose this definition upon other species who have no experience or need to think in the way that we do is illogical and irrelevant. Even our conception of our own intelligence is constantly changing. In recent years, we have vastly amended the ways we quantify intelligence among humans based on varying skill sets, so is it ridiculous to think the same might be true for other species?
So, what of the consciousness question? An argument against the consciousness of a fruit fly was given that their brains simply possess too few neurons to be able to give rise to anything so complex as conscious thought. The mechanisms that flies demonstrate are like the unconscious workings of a simple machine. This begs the question: what does one define as consciousness? Is it an awareness of self, of deeds, of desires? If this is so, it seems difficult to claim that even a fruit fly lacks consciousness. It flies about, careening wildly through its brief lifespan searching madly for food and a mate. These drives probably consume most of its "thoughts" (for lack of a better term), yet can we truly call this unconscious? Do we know, and how can we prove that a fly's brain doesn't register things such as: "There's food over there! How can I get to it?" Indeed, even this simple primitive thought demonstrates some level of consciousness. By the very virtue that it acknowledges the concept of self, which must be presumed by recognizing that there is something else which is not already incorporated inside of whatever is doing the thinking, the fly has become conscious. The concept of self must be understood once any creature realizes that some thing exists apart from itself, in a way, before it even knows it has a self. This designation of something as other necessitates a realization of Self, it needs a context in which to set this other entity. And this, I believe, is all that is needed to establish the rudiments of consciousness.
A more agreeable hypothesis has been proposed that perhaps Consciousness is not an all-or-nothing switch, that instead it is gradated and a matter of degree. It seems more acceptable to claim that a fly is simply less-conscious than a dog or human rather than being a completely unconscious automaton. The range of actions seem to indicate that something is different between all of these animals, yet perhaps it is even too much to try to guess which state of consciousness is "higher". In some ways, a fly may be said to be more conscious than a human. It is focused on these perhaps one or two things which are the principal drives and motives of its life, whereas we humans are so confused and pulled in all directions, constantly, perhaps perpetually distracted from the true and essential purpose of life, which is simply to live. It may be possible that flies actually represent a more evolved form of life than we, no politics, no emotions, no imposed structures, simplicity defined.
However, I, for one, believe that this misses out on the subtleties of existence, which are the true pleasures in living. They are the reasons why we seek companionship in the first place, why we find so much in common with animals, why we consider them our pets. We are not to say what is better or higher, things simply are. We feel a strong desire to engage in all of the things that we can to fill up our lives, and that means the elated highs of love just as much as the sad, grim reality of mortality. This is our consciousness, the ways in which we diverge from the path of autotomia. We cannot help but feel it, it sustains us, even through the loss of those we hold so dear. Since we cannot hope to win in this game of mortality, the best we may be able to do is to recognize the ephemeral nature of everything around us. In this way, we can hold things more dear, savor each moment and relish in the opportunity of experience. We must learn to "drink life to the lees" before life turns to dust.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Sunrise
(this post is my recollection of a recent experience i shared with my girlfriend. i was surprised that such a seemingly mundane thing could move me in such a way. it was like...i don't know...say, a double rainbow, all the way across the sky...)
In the daily tumult of our "waking" lives, in the crush and pull of this forced existence, it is easy for one to simply keep one's head down and heart grounded. Given the constant struggle we find our days to be, we have no time anymore to believe in magic and mystery, in fairy tales and legend. But, as we run the maze, we endanger our selves because we become unaware that there is a world of wonderment all around us, lurking in the mundane and overlooked.
I am, I must admit, no less at fault for these crimes against ourselves, but I count myself fortunate to be occasionally reminded of this fact, as a I slip for a moment from "what is real", and stumble upon a place where, if only for an instant, my heart comes into phase with the waves of this hidden majesty.
This particular morning, I had done something which, though it is a thing I often do, never before with this purpose. I was awake early to watch the Sun rise. Strange that I had never to this point taken advantage of this common show, but as I said, we tend to take such things for granted. The view from high above was quiet, tranquil. The slow, steady rhythm of waves breaking gently on the shore were like the ticking of some kind of cosmic clock. The sand, neglected during these cold winter months, had a virgin aspect of new-fallen snow. In the grey distance, I could trace out the dark, distant outlines of huge ships. Were they coming or going? What distant shores had they seen? Had they been, like us, lost in the ocean's vastness, tossed about by enormous waves, (worthless) desperately searching for a light to ring out in the dark?
Gradually, I became aware of a gently increasing light from somewhere far beyond. I imagined the orchestra warming up in the pit, and as the opening airs of Das Rheingold began to softly crescendo, I knew the actors were preparing themselves just offstage, behind the curtain of the Stage at the Edge of the World. The low lying clouds, which were furthest away, became tinctured with a softwarm glow. The intensity grew. It was the unstoppable progress of the Sun as he made his way across his airy domain. This light was an annunciation and the clouds were his heralds.
I reflected that it is of no surprise that the Ancients have accorded such respect and mythical qualities to our Lightbringer. To see it now filled me with reverence and awe. The orb slowly became more visible, a fiery ball of burning brilliance. It ascended higher and higher, past the clouds as it mounted its throne.
It seemed to me, in the silent stillness of the scene, as if I were witnessing a sacred rite passing between the elements of Nature itself to which I had no right to witness. I felt strangely that I should be ashamed, as if I were Actaeon unwittingly spying upon the beautiful Diana. I peeked out cautiously from behind the curtains and didn't say a word.
As the flame grew higher, I imagined what it would be like to have witnessed this sight and to have no idea what it was. To be this unknowing creature, I would simply be terrified at the vision of this huge, blazing inferno rising far in the distance. Was it a divine sign or some fell catastrophe come to dispatch of me? I would know not, at least at first, and then, once I had grown sure of my safety, would attempt to explain it in what ways I could, fashioning explanations and tales that reflected my experiences and knowledge. In this way, legends are born.
I watched the luminary continue to rise, and as it climbed higher, I was reminded yet again of the reality of our small place. In a matter of minutes, the sun traced out the realm we have been given, the land between ocean and clouds. In this narrow band, we carry out our days. Yet, the sun, apparently not so content, had, before my very eyes, easily transcended what Man took millenia to penetrate. We allow our consciousness to be trapped within the narrow band. It is where our lives pass and years fade, it houses our concerns and worries. We could simply relieve these burdens, but we just forget to look up. Instead, we settle for days in mediocrity, afraid to soar or to explore the depths of the unknown. We are unaware prisoners of our own devices. We could break free, but first we must realize that we are bound.
What I came to realize from this solemn and majestic spectacle is that we should not attribute such events to some mystical realm, because that merely serves as a boundary between Ourselves and the Sublime. Paradoxically, there is significance in these things in that they have no meaning for us beyond what we give to them. If we create our Gods, does this not make us Gods ourselves? As I watched the Sun rise, I could discern in it no concern for the trivial laws and conventions of mankind. The world does not exist for us, we are visitors, guests and spectators. The Sun and Earth care little for us and will continue about their way long after we depart, just as they had for eons before our arrival.
And yet, exactly in this lack of meaning is where I find a purpose. The significance we attribute to things is of our own design. We must make our own meaning because, even if there is any greater thing out there, we almost surely figure very little in its designs. We must recognize however, that this loneliness is our freedom, that we have, therefore, the ability to shape our own lives, and we have only ourselves to blame if we do not.
For me, I thought that to look into the Sun may be like looking into the face of Truth itself. It can only be viewed indirectly, and from far away. Even then, one can only bear its full Illumination for a very brief period of time. We are left then, to speculate about it, to infer its nature from its effects, and to always know, out of the corner of our sight, it is there.
And, as it goes, so it shall continue. We will carry about our existence under the Sun, concerned with the less-lofty things that seem more important because they constantly tear at our attentions. If we are lucky, perhaps every now and again, we will remember to look skyward, or find the meaning in the gentle waves of blades of grass. Whatever images speak to us, that spontaneously becomes their purpose, to become some significance to us. Grasp onto them, because they will just as quickly fade away. Indeed, these things that trouble us do matter, but we always want for perspective. Mankind is not long for this world. We are here for only a blink of the Universe's eye. We will die, and the codes and monuments we have built are sure to fade. But it matters not to the Sun, which will continue to rise for many years to come.
In the daily tumult of our "waking" lives, in the crush and pull of this forced existence, it is easy for one to simply keep one's head down and heart grounded. Given the constant struggle we find our days to be, we have no time anymore to believe in magic and mystery, in fairy tales and legend. But, as we run the maze, we endanger our selves because we become unaware that there is a world of wonderment all around us, lurking in the mundane and overlooked.
I am, I must admit, no less at fault for these crimes against ourselves, but I count myself fortunate to be occasionally reminded of this fact, as a I slip for a moment from "what is real", and stumble upon a place where, if only for an instant, my heart comes into phase with the waves of this hidden majesty.
This particular morning, I had done something which, though it is a thing I often do, never before with this purpose. I was awake early to watch the Sun rise. Strange that I had never to this point taken advantage of this common show, but as I said, we tend to take such things for granted. The view from high above was quiet, tranquil. The slow, steady rhythm of waves breaking gently on the shore were like the ticking of some kind of cosmic clock. The sand, neglected during these cold winter months, had a virgin aspect of new-fallen snow. In the grey distance, I could trace out the dark, distant outlines of huge ships. Were they coming or going? What distant shores had they seen? Had they been, like us, lost in the ocean's vastness, tossed about by enormous waves, (worthless) desperately searching for a light to ring out in the dark?
Gradually, I became aware of a gently increasing light from somewhere far beyond. I imagined the orchestra warming up in the pit, and as the opening airs of Das Rheingold began to softly crescendo, I knew the actors were preparing themselves just offstage, behind the curtain of the Stage at the Edge of the World. The low lying clouds, which were furthest away, became tinctured with a softwarm glow. The intensity grew. It was the unstoppable progress of the Sun as he made his way across his airy domain. This light was an annunciation and the clouds were his heralds.
I reflected that it is of no surprise that the Ancients have accorded such respect and mythical qualities to our Lightbringer. To see it now filled me with reverence and awe. The orb slowly became more visible, a fiery ball of burning brilliance. It ascended higher and higher, past the clouds as it mounted its throne.
It seemed to me, in the silent stillness of the scene, as if I were witnessing a sacred rite passing between the elements of Nature itself to which I had no right to witness. I felt strangely that I should be ashamed, as if I were Actaeon unwittingly spying upon the beautiful Diana. I peeked out cautiously from behind the curtains and didn't say a word.
As the flame grew higher, I imagined what it would be like to have witnessed this sight and to have no idea what it was. To be this unknowing creature, I would simply be terrified at the vision of this huge, blazing inferno rising far in the distance. Was it a divine sign or some fell catastrophe come to dispatch of me? I would know not, at least at first, and then, once I had grown sure of my safety, would attempt to explain it in what ways I could, fashioning explanations and tales that reflected my experiences and knowledge. In this way, legends are born.
I watched the luminary continue to rise, and as it climbed higher, I was reminded yet again of the reality of our small place. In a matter of minutes, the sun traced out the realm we have been given, the land between ocean and clouds. In this narrow band, we carry out our days. Yet, the sun, apparently not so content, had, before my very eyes, easily transcended what Man took millenia to penetrate. We allow our consciousness to be trapped within the narrow band. It is where our lives pass and years fade, it houses our concerns and worries. We could simply relieve these burdens, but we just forget to look up. Instead, we settle for days in mediocrity, afraid to soar or to explore the depths of the unknown. We are unaware prisoners of our own devices. We could break free, but first we must realize that we are bound.
What I came to realize from this solemn and majestic spectacle is that we should not attribute such events to some mystical realm, because that merely serves as a boundary between Ourselves and the Sublime. Paradoxically, there is significance in these things in that they have no meaning for us beyond what we give to them. If we create our Gods, does this not make us Gods ourselves? As I watched the Sun rise, I could discern in it no concern for the trivial laws and conventions of mankind. The world does not exist for us, we are visitors, guests and spectators. The Sun and Earth care little for us and will continue about their way long after we depart, just as they had for eons before our arrival.
And yet, exactly in this lack of meaning is where I find a purpose. The significance we attribute to things is of our own design. We must make our own meaning because, even if there is any greater thing out there, we almost surely figure very little in its designs. We must recognize however, that this loneliness is our freedom, that we have, therefore, the ability to shape our own lives, and we have only ourselves to blame if we do not.
For me, I thought that to look into the Sun may be like looking into the face of Truth itself. It can only be viewed indirectly, and from far away. Even then, one can only bear its full Illumination for a very brief period of time. We are left then, to speculate about it, to infer its nature from its effects, and to always know, out of the corner of our sight, it is there.
And, as it goes, so it shall continue. We will carry about our existence under the Sun, concerned with the less-lofty things that seem more important because they constantly tear at our attentions. If we are lucky, perhaps every now and again, we will remember to look skyward, or find the meaning in the gentle waves of blades of grass. Whatever images speak to us, that spontaneously becomes their purpose, to become some significance to us. Grasp onto them, because they will just as quickly fade away. Indeed, these things that trouble us do matter, but we always want for perspective. Mankind is not long for this world. We are here for only a blink of the Universe's eye. We will die, and the codes and monuments we have built are sure to fade. But it matters not to the Sun, which will continue to rise for many years to come.
Friday, November 5, 2010
A Defense of Agnosticism
Hello again, my lovelies, ready for more thoughtful chaos? The following essay I've been working on here and there for a bit. I was finally inspired to put pen to paper after reading "the god delusion" by richard dawkins, hoping that it might finally convert me to complete atheism. sadly, i was disappointed by the holes in the argument, and left tragically unconvinced. further, i am moved by the uncalled-for name-calling that we open-minded agnostics are constantly subjected to by those who believe in something (or "nah-ssing," think about it). hopefully, this will help to explain things a little better to these bullies...
A Defense of Agnosticism
In the Universe, there is no Law. You may ask yourself, what sort of crazed individual could make such a claim for the realm of the Big Everything. Indeed, anarchy is the dream of renegade teenagers and such cynicism reverberates from the hollow tunnel of the “Lost Generation.” And yet, I assure you, I am far from these and well do I recognize the transparent foibles of each. I am instead that endless nagging question, the bane of all reasonable thinking persons, the Bat in the Battle of Bird and Beast: the Agnostic. That perennial fence-sitter is I, disdained by all who have made up their minds. “Make a decision,” they clamour, ire growing visibly as each minute painfully waffles by. Fine then, I shall repeat myself: “THERE IS NO LAW!!!” How’s that for a declaration?
My argument is not a result of some mystical, transcendental experience, but rather the product of simple reasoning reinforced by a layperson’s (read “idiot's”) familiarity with the basic tenets of modern science. That is to say that I have simply fleshed out my ideas and hypotheses with some rudimentary observations as all good reasoning should be.
Firstly, the agnostic position, or rather, as I would not feign to speak for agnostics united, MY agnostic position: the only certainty is uncertainty. “ Aha, you see?” the (non)believers instantly point out, “he has contradicted himself from the very beginning.” Yes, indeed I have bound myself into this strange loop, and it is not unaware. It is deliberately and precisely to demonstrate the argument that I have pitched camp at the base of this particular hill.
Of course, to those acquainted with the state of modern quantum physics, strangeness is nothing to shirk from. To approximate the late great Richard Feynman: “if you don't find quantum physics strange, then you haven't really understood it...” And such seeming paradoxes proliferate.
So, lets start with the basic requirements for establishing a Law, an unalterable rule about the Universe. It must be that such a statement can never be violated. This means that if even one contradictory example can be given, then said Law must be abandoned as “untrue.” For example, in this world, such Newtonian “Laws” as “what goes up, must come down” lose all meaning when viewed through the cosmic lens of relativity, because a thing may be only tenuously bound by the so-very-weak force of gravity as to escape its pull and move forever upwards (relatively-speaking of course) and never return to the plane of its initial ascent. The point of this is to establish that such rules work well for our local observation, but break down tragically on different scales. And so, we would do well to start thinking of these "laws" more as rules-of-thumb than inviolable mandates.
This thinking is not necessarily relegated to the realm of physics, and there are those who may seek a “purer” demonstration. For those, I refer to a saying that physicists defer to mathematicians, whereas mathematicians defer only to God. The idea here is obviously not to push a deistic agenda but rather to point out the “impartiality” of mathematics and to illustrate the study of numbers as a generally agreed upon consistent and coherent means of deciding “true” statements. To this end, I will direct the reader to the work of Kurt Gödel. Gödel is famous for his systematic approach to a previous work (whose title and author we shall turn to later) and his subsequent “incompleteness theorem”. Without going too far into the details, Gödel was essentially able to prove an inherent shortcoming of all formal systems (of which mathematics is one). The idea traces its lineage to an old Greek question, the “Epimenides Paradox,” which states simply: “I am a liar”. This superficially simple sentence is actually very complicated and it creates what may be called a “strange loop” in that it contradicts itself regardless of how one interprets it. If one accepts the statement as true, and the speaker as being truthful in his admission, then he is telling the truth and cannot be a liar and vice-versa. One can see the basic contradiction. But despite its actual impossibility, the statement can clearly be articulated in language, and even transfers information. While this may seem to be merely a semantic quibble, its implication is actually quite profound.
Gödel was troubled by the inherent bias of interpreting numbers in such a way (that is, that we have a preconceived notion of what “+” or “=” means, which are merely conventions we have grown accustomed to.) And so, Gödel sought to strip the symbols of their interpretations and analyze what I will call their “relational trueness”. The rules and text that he used as inspiration came from Bertrand Russell and Alfred North Whitehead’s Principia Mathematica. In the jargon of logic, "axioms" would be statements that are given as always being true, basic assumptions, and are used as building blocks for all other rules in the system. A "formula" is a statement, and if this formula proves to be true, then it is known as a "theorem" of the given system (so in arithemtic, that 2+2=4). The authors of this intimidating codex also derived what were known as “formally undecidable principles”, which are "theorems" whose truth cannot seem to be determined, amongst the field of axioms and theorems. In this system, as in much of number theory, a system is consistent only if it contains no contradictions. And also, a system is considered complete if and only if all logically derivable statements within the system are true, which implies that any formula or its negation are included. By creating a system G and a statement g ("I am not provable by G"), Gödel finally succeeded by using these formally undecidable principles to demonstrate that it was impossible to have a system that was both complete and consistent. The basic idea is that, while the statement g was logically possible in the system G, its truth could not be determined unless it contradicted itself, which would make the system inconsistent. And, because g was an allowable statement within G, to exclude it would obviously make the system incomplete.
Thus, he was able to show that a system could never serve as its own proof, and any system that claimed to must be inconsistent. Simply put, he mathematically demonstrated that every formal system must contain at least one such example of uncertainty and so proofs of certainty must reside outside of the system about which they speak. As before, it may be said that this amounts to little more than pilpul, a philosophical tiff to point out that one could possibly find a ridiculously improbable instant where a given thing would fail and use that as proof against a certain rule's truth. Indeed, this is exactly so, and what we are doing is demonstrating the inherent and inevitable Achille's Heel of every so-called “law.”
And so, if experience hasn't already taught us such, we must begin to realize that there is no real certainty of anything. If one is given to placing much importance on supernatural and mystical experiences, then we can also turn to the wisdom of the ancients. The classical civilizations traversed the “golden mean” as Icarus’s prideful wings burst aflame far above and plunged to an untimely demise. The eastern philosophies exhort the middle path, and are rife with paradoxes such as “if one sees the Way, it is not the Way.” These aged ideas actually eerily seem to foreshadow the findings of modern science.
"But, why stop with this one little contradiction? Why not eradicate the entire system of truth and belief?", some may argue further. Indeed, if one traces out the path of all circumstances to this logical conclusion, one is left with absolutely nothing. An immeasurable forest of blackness yawns out before us, and we are forced to realize that there is no purpose to any of this. There is no reason, and we are merely machines, unimaginably complex strings of formulae simply reacting, yet incomprehensible to us. We are lame players in roles assigned by impersonal drones, slaves of the Law of Nature. We are each merely following a track, a Destiny we wish to call it. But in the end, all we are is this. A solution to an equation to describe the state of Existence at this particular moment. There is no reason to assume the Hand of God in any of this. Like LaPlace, we have no need for that hypothesis. Darwin explains everything so well. (Scientific) timelines seem to agree with the ages required to bring Life to the stage it currently is at with its manifold species. The genius (and perhaps sleight-of-hand) of the evolutionary theory is that it specifies that given mutations are random which effectively eliminates the need for an intelligent design theory. The fossil record also seems to corroborate evolution.
Unfortunately, all of this strong scientific evidence is still not enough to do that most impossible of tasks: actually prove anything. Because there lurks in this mountain of evidence, like an unnamed darkness, a single absence of the most decisive piece of proof. In the end, atheism falls victim to the same fallacy as the believers.
There has developed somehow a tacit assumption that scientific hypotheses supercede pure mental examination and other forms of experience. While it is true that evidence gathered from experimentation seems more convincing, and indeed it probably should be, we must remember that science must still be judged by the same standards as all other forms of argument. The argument against belief in God is easy to see. For it, we may separate "belief" into five "levels". We have the middle ground, the agnostics. They have committed the unthinkable crime of saying "I could go either way" or "I believe I will reserve judgment". Then, on either side (which we may designate as Belief and Non-belief) there are two subgroups: those who mostly agree, and those who completely agree. There is suitable reason to fall within the middle-ground of either of these two sides; it is mostly a matter of opinion. But true Belief (or Non-belief, as it is simply a contraction of “To-believe-in-not-believing”) is a whole-hearted acceptance of the claims of whatever particular religion to which one ascribes. There are any number of convincing arguments that could lead one to belief in a higher being, from perceiving the astounding order in the Universe, to the dramatic key similarities in the various Histories of Men, to simply an overbearing gut-feeling that there must be "something" out there and so many more. However, the problem, many atheist scientists and philosophers would point out, is that there is a gulf, a point at which there is no physical or logical evidence which supports undeniably the existence of God. One must simply make a "leap of faith" to truly believe. Some, such as the biologist Richard Dawkins argue that this is damning evidence and that their side (Non-belief) is however supported by mountains of biological and paleontological evidence that show that Evolution explains away the need for God. Science stands as a direct, menacing adversary to Religion.
As stated, Evolution is a random mechanism which can operate independently of any outside source of Creation. God therefore becomes a superfluous decadence, a superstition. And should this be a surprise? Has one not observed that ancient and primitive religions constantly crumble away to disproven "mythologies" under the brilliant light of scientific examination? Does not the evolution of our religions reflect our growing understanding of the world? Did not Nietzsche warn us that fixed beliefs systems are thought prisons? We no longer have gods of the sun, the night, the harvest, of war. We have found explanation to these phenomena and have mostly, for better or worse, cut ourselves free from the world of magic. For the most part, Western Civilization has distilled the Pantheon to one single entity: that which we still do not comprehend, the realm from which we have arisen and are someday destined to fade back into, that of Creation and Eternity. And, many may argue, when we come face-to-face with these great truths, we may find that there is no greater meaning even to these domains, and that there simply is nothing to understand about Nothing.
However, this argument for Non-belief is flawed for the same reason as the argument against Belief. There is an identical gulf between scepticism and atheism which the Non-believer must bridge. Firstly, the line of experimental reasoning does nothing to disprove the existence of God, it merely offers another explanation. And simply because Evolution seems to do an adequate job of explaining the development of Life, and physics currently offers us a more precise vista of the Universe than we have yet enjoyed does not in any way mean that these theories necessarily are the correct and final interpretations of all things. Simply because a thing seems to be so does not actually make it so. It may be that the gears of Existence seem to turn in time to Darwin's ideas, but, just as in the case of God, this cannot be proven to be necessarily true or as a result of only this theory and not some other. The reason returns to the problem of Gödel's theorem. By definition, the Universe should be a complete system, and we certainly may hope that the Universe is consistent, but the problem is that to prove that we have unquestionably found the Answer to all Things would require a view from outside of the system we are already in. However, since that system is the Universe, and we have no way to view ourselves from the outside of this nor to even perceive of things outside of that system, we cannot establish that such a claim is, in fact, correct. For this reason, we must conclude that the system that is "the Universe" is either inconsistent or incomplete. On the one hand, if we suppose it to be complete, then the Universe would contain all possible theorems, that is to say, all possible outcomes and occurrences. But, that would mean that the Universe must also contain its negation, which, to put it nicely, makes it an unattractive option. On the other hand, we can suppose that the Universe is consistent, an option which we are more comfortable with, but then the concept of "the Universe" becomes an idea just as flawed as we are. It is not a true Universe, it becomes shackled as a quasi- "Universe". Further, though modern science may offer a plausible way for the Universe to have evolved, there may be other, equally plausible, explanations. The problem is that we simply cannot know.
And this fundamental flaw, which we are blamelessly destined to bear, permeates through all forms of knowledge, to the extent that we can never actually, truly, know anything. We can be convinced of a thing, there can be no contrary evidence to it throughout all of observable history, and yet, we still must carry with us the reminder that this thing may very well be proven false at any instant. And the second that it does, we must abandon it as untrue. We cannot step outside of the system, but this is the very thing we must do if we ever wish to truly know anything. Thus, it becomes that agnosticism is not an evasion. Rather, it is the logical conclusion of reasoning and an acknowledgment that we cannot view ourselves impartially. We cannot truly know because we cannot separate ourselves from the Universe we are embedded in. We cannot make an outside observation of Everything because we cannot exist outside of Everything. We are merely members, or as some prefer, prisoners of the Universe.
There are those who claim that Belief is Freedom, that one can be content and secure with the knowledge that there are Archetypes; the Platonic Forms exist beyond our view, and we are only shades of Perfection, like Socrates' shadows on the cave wall. We can rest in the comfort of knowing that there is a Greater Meaning to what we do, and that our actions will determine the fate of our own souls. Thus, they have the security of Agency over their Destinies.
Then, others feel just as strongly that this is blind foolishness, and that there is not Meaning, there are no Spirits, no Souls; we are only vessels of blood and bone moving through a cold world. Our “selves” are merely instantaneous representations of a specific instance in a long, complicated equation which governs all Existence. And for this reason, they feel free floating in an empty, black void. However, for them, there will be no purpose, there is ultimately no reason to live. As we are merely solutions, we cannot be held accountable, nor should we seek to have agency over our actions, Free Will is only an illusion. Furthermore, for some, we need not even feel obligated to follow state or moral law, because, since there is no God, there can be no repercussion. Sadly, these cynical pragmatists still worship at the Altar of the God of Science, and they seem blind to the fact that their smug chemical, physical determinism is still only an updated interpretation of Destiny.
But for the agnostics, there is a world of promise. We can live by rational concepts and are not shackled to obviously flawed traditions and superstitions to the same extent that that we are freed from the trappings and inconsistencies of empirical observations carried to unwarranted and unnecessary ends. We carry with us the great potential, the Exception. Each day holds the possibility of the extraordinary and we are bound by no "laws". We know that nothing is certain, no thing carved in stone, and in this, we are truly free.
A Defense of Agnosticism
In the Universe, there is no Law. You may ask yourself, what sort of crazed individual could make such a claim for the realm of the Big Everything. Indeed, anarchy is the dream of renegade teenagers and such cynicism reverberates from the hollow tunnel of the “Lost Generation.” And yet, I assure you, I am far from these and well do I recognize the transparent foibles of each. I am instead that endless nagging question, the bane of all reasonable thinking persons, the Bat in the Battle of Bird and Beast: the Agnostic. That perennial fence-sitter is I, disdained by all who have made up their minds. “Make a decision,” they clamour, ire growing visibly as each minute painfully waffles by. Fine then, I shall repeat myself: “THERE IS NO LAW!!!” How’s that for a declaration?
My argument is not a result of some mystical, transcendental experience, but rather the product of simple reasoning reinforced by a layperson’s (read “idiot's”) familiarity with the basic tenets of modern science. That is to say that I have simply fleshed out my ideas and hypotheses with some rudimentary observations as all good reasoning should be.
Firstly, the agnostic position, or rather, as I would not feign to speak for agnostics united, MY agnostic position: the only certainty is uncertainty. “ Aha, you see?” the (non)believers instantly point out, “he has contradicted himself from the very beginning.” Yes, indeed I have bound myself into this strange loop, and it is not unaware. It is deliberately and precisely to demonstrate the argument that I have pitched camp at the base of this particular hill.
Of course, to those acquainted with the state of modern quantum physics, strangeness is nothing to shirk from. To approximate the late great Richard Feynman: “if you don't find quantum physics strange, then you haven't really understood it...” And such seeming paradoxes proliferate.
So, lets start with the basic requirements for establishing a Law, an unalterable rule about the Universe. It must be that such a statement can never be violated. This means that if even one contradictory example can be given, then said Law must be abandoned as “untrue.” For example, in this world, such Newtonian “Laws” as “what goes up, must come down” lose all meaning when viewed through the cosmic lens of relativity, because a thing may be only tenuously bound by the so-very-weak force of gravity as to escape its pull and move forever upwards (relatively-speaking of course) and never return to the plane of its initial ascent. The point of this is to establish that such rules work well for our local observation, but break down tragically on different scales. And so, we would do well to start thinking of these "laws" more as rules-of-thumb than inviolable mandates.
This thinking is not necessarily relegated to the realm of physics, and there are those who may seek a “purer” demonstration. For those, I refer to a saying that physicists defer to mathematicians, whereas mathematicians defer only to God. The idea here is obviously not to push a deistic agenda but rather to point out the “impartiality” of mathematics and to illustrate the study of numbers as a generally agreed upon consistent and coherent means of deciding “true” statements. To this end, I will direct the reader to the work of Kurt Gödel. Gödel is famous for his systematic approach to a previous work (whose title and author we shall turn to later) and his subsequent “incompleteness theorem”. Without going too far into the details, Gödel was essentially able to prove an inherent shortcoming of all formal systems (of which mathematics is one). The idea traces its lineage to an old Greek question, the “Epimenides Paradox,” which states simply: “I am a liar”. This superficially simple sentence is actually very complicated and it creates what may be called a “strange loop” in that it contradicts itself regardless of how one interprets it. If one accepts the statement as true, and the speaker as being truthful in his admission, then he is telling the truth and cannot be a liar and vice-versa. One can see the basic contradiction. But despite its actual impossibility, the statement can clearly be articulated in language, and even transfers information. While this may seem to be merely a semantic quibble, its implication is actually quite profound.
Gödel was troubled by the inherent bias of interpreting numbers in such a way (that is, that we have a preconceived notion of what “+” or “=” means, which are merely conventions we have grown accustomed to.) And so, Gödel sought to strip the symbols of their interpretations and analyze what I will call their “relational trueness”. The rules and text that he used as inspiration came from Bertrand Russell and Alfred North Whitehead’s Principia Mathematica. In the jargon of logic, "axioms" would be statements that are given as always being true, basic assumptions, and are used as building blocks for all other rules in the system. A "formula" is a statement, and if this formula proves to be true, then it is known as a "theorem" of the given system (so in arithemtic, that 2+2=4). The authors of this intimidating codex also derived what were known as “formally undecidable principles”, which are "theorems" whose truth cannot seem to be determined, amongst the field of axioms and theorems. In this system, as in much of number theory, a system is consistent only if it contains no contradictions. And also, a system is considered complete if and only if all logically derivable statements within the system are true, which implies that any formula or its negation are included. By creating a system G and a statement g ("I am not provable by G"), Gödel finally succeeded by using these formally undecidable principles to demonstrate that it was impossible to have a system that was both complete and consistent. The basic idea is that, while the statement g was logically possible in the system G, its truth could not be determined unless it contradicted itself, which would make the system inconsistent. And, because g was an allowable statement within G, to exclude it would obviously make the system incomplete.
Thus, he was able to show that a system could never serve as its own proof, and any system that claimed to must be inconsistent. Simply put, he mathematically demonstrated that every formal system must contain at least one such example of uncertainty and so proofs of certainty must reside outside of the system about which they speak. As before, it may be said that this amounts to little more than pilpul, a philosophical tiff to point out that one could possibly find a ridiculously improbable instant where a given thing would fail and use that as proof against a certain rule's truth. Indeed, this is exactly so, and what we are doing is demonstrating the inherent and inevitable Achille's Heel of every so-called “law.”
And so, if experience hasn't already taught us such, we must begin to realize that there is no real certainty of anything. If one is given to placing much importance on supernatural and mystical experiences, then we can also turn to the wisdom of the ancients. The classical civilizations traversed the “golden mean” as Icarus’s prideful wings burst aflame far above and plunged to an untimely demise. The eastern philosophies exhort the middle path, and are rife with paradoxes such as “if one sees the Way, it is not the Way.” These aged ideas actually eerily seem to foreshadow the findings of modern science.
"But, why stop with this one little contradiction? Why not eradicate the entire system of truth and belief?", some may argue further. Indeed, if one traces out the path of all circumstances to this logical conclusion, one is left with absolutely nothing. An immeasurable forest of blackness yawns out before us, and we are forced to realize that there is no purpose to any of this. There is no reason, and we are merely machines, unimaginably complex strings of formulae simply reacting, yet incomprehensible to us. We are lame players in roles assigned by impersonal drones, slaves of the Law of Nature. We are each merely following a track, a Destiny we wish to call it. But in the end, all we are is this. A solution to an equation to describe the state of Existence at this particular moment. There is no reason to assume the Hand of God in any of this. Like LaPlace, we have no need for that hypothesis. Darwin explains everything so well. (Scientific) timelines seem to agree with the ages required to bring Life to the stage it currently is at with its manifold species. The genius (and perhaps sleight-of-hand) of the evolutionary theory is that it specifies that given mutations are random which effectively eliminates the need for an intelligent design theory. The fossil record also seems to corroborate evolution.
Unfortunately, all of this strong scientific evidence is still not enough to do that most impossible of tasks: actually prove anything. Because there lurks in this mountain of evidence, like an unnamed darkness, a single absence of the most decisive piece of proof. In the end, atheism falls victim to the same fallacy as the believers.
There has developed somehow a tacit assumption that scientific hypotheses supercede pure mental examination and other forms of experience. While it is true that evidence gathered from experimentation seems more convincing, and indeed it probably should be, we must remember that science must still be judged by the same standards as all other forms of argument. The argument against belief in God is easy to see. For it, we may separate "belief" into five "levels". We have the middle ground, the agnostics. They have committed the unthinkable crime of saying "I could go either way" or "I believe I will reserve judgment". Then, on either side (which we may designate as Belief and Non-belief) there are two subgroups: those who mostly agree, and those who completely agree. There is suitable reason to fall within the middle-ground of either of these two sides; it is mostly a matter of opinion. But true Belief (or Non-belief, as it is simply a contraction of “To-believe-in-not-believing”) is a whole-hearted acceptance of the claims of whatever particular religion to which one ascribes. There are any number of convincing arguments that could lead one to belief in a higher being, from perceiving the astounding order in the Universe, to the dramatic key similarities in the various Histories of Men, to simply an overbearing gut-feeling that there must be "something" out there and so many more. However, the problem, many atheist scientists and philosophers would point out, is that there is a gulf, a point at which there is no physical or logical evidence which supports undeniably the existence of God. One must simply make a "leap of faith" to truly believe. Some, such as the biologist Richard Dawkins argue that this is damning evidence and that their side (Non-belief) is however supported by mountains of biological and paleontological evidence that show that Evolution explains away the need for God. Science stands as a direct, menacing adversary to Religion.
As stated, Evolution is a random mechanism which can operate independently of any outside source of Creation. God therefore becomes a superfluous decadence, a superstition. And should this be a surprise? Has one not observed that ancient and primitive religions constantly crumble away to disproven "mythologies" under the brilliant light of scientific examination? Does not the evolution of our religions reflect our growing understanding of the world? Did not Nietzsche warn us that fixed beliefs systems are thought prisons? We no longer have gods of the sun, the night, the harvest, of war. We have found explanation to these phenomena and have mostly, for better or worse, cut ourselves free from the world of magic. For the most part, Western Civilization has distilled the Pantheon to one single entity: that which we still do not comprehend, the realm from which we have arisen and are someday destined to fade back into, that of Creation and Eternity. And, many may argue, when we come face-to-face with these great truths, we may find that there is no greater meaning even to these domains, and that there simply is nothing to understand about Nothing.
However, this argument for Non-belief is flawed for the same reason as the argument against Belief. There is an identical gulf between scepticism and atheism which the Non-believer must bridge. Firstly, the line of experimental reasoning does nothing to disprove the existence of God, it merely offers another explanation. And simply because Evolution seems to do an adequate job of explaining the development of Life, and physics currently offers us a more precise vista of the Universe than we have yet enjoyed does not in any way mean that these theories necessarily are the correct and final interpretations of all things. Simply because a thing seems to be so does not actually make it so. It may be that the gears of Existence seem to turn in time to Darwin's ideas, but, just as in the case of God, this cannot be proven to be necessarily true or as a result of only this theory and not some other. The reason returns to the problem of Gödel's theorem. By definition, the Universe should be a complete system, and we certainly may hope that the Universe is consistent, but the problem is that to prove that we have unquestionably found the Answer to all Things would require a view from outside of the system we are already in. However, since that system is the Universe, and we have no way to view ourselves from the outside of this nor to even perceive of things outside of that system, we cannot establish that such a claim is, in fact, correct. For this reason, we must conclude that the system that is "the Universe" is either inconsistent or incomplete. On the one hand, if we suppose it to be complete, then the Universe would contain all possible theorems, that is to say, all possible outcomes and occurrences. But, that would mean that the Universe must also contain its negation, which, to put it nicely, makes it an unattractive option. On the other hand, we can suppose that the Universe is consistent, an option which we are more comfortable with, but then the concept of "the Universe" becomes an idea just as flawed as we are. It is not a true Universe, it becomes shackled as a quasi- "Universe". Further, though modern science may offer a plausible way for the Universe to have evolved, there may be other, equally plausible, explanations. The problem is that we simply cannot know.
And this fundamental flaw, which we are blamelessly destined to bear, permeates through all forms of knowledge, to the extent that we can never actually, truly, know anything. We can be convinced of a thing, there can be no contrary evidence to it throughout all of observable history, and yet, we still must carry with us the reminder that this thing may very well be proven false at any instant. And the second that it does, we must abandon it as untrue. We cannot step outside of the system, but this is the very thing we must do if we ever wish to truly know anything. Thus, it becomes that agnosticism is not an evasion. Rather, it is the logical conclusion of reasoning and an acknowledgment that we cannot view ourselves impartially. We cannot truly know because we cannot separate ourselves from the Universe we are embedded in. We cannot make an outside observation of Everything because we cannot exist outside of Everything. We are merely members, or as some prefer, prisoners of the Universe.
There are those who claim that Belief is Freedom, that one can be content and secure with the knowledge that there are Archetypes; the Platonic Forms exist beyond our view, and we are only shades of Perfection, like Socrates' shadows on the cave wall. We can rest in the comfort of knowing that there is a Greater Meaning to what we do, and that our actions will determine the fate of our own souls. Thus, they have the security of Agency over their Destinies.
Then, others feel just as strongly that this is blind foolishness, and that there is not Meaning, there are no Spirits, no Souls; we are only vessels of blood and bone moving through a cold world. Our “selves” are merely instantaneous representations of a specific instance in a long, complicated equation which governs all Existence. And for this reason, they feel free floating in an empty, black void. However, for them, there will be no purpose, there is ultimately no reason to live. As we are merely solutions, we cannot be held accountable, nor should we seek to have agency over our actions, Free Will is only an illusion. Furthermore, for some, we need not even feel obligated to follow state or moral law, because, since there is no God, there can be no repercussion. Sadly, these cynical pragmatists still worship at the Altar of the God of Science, and they seem blind to the fact that their smug chemical, physical determinism is still only an updated interpretation of Destiny.
But for the agnostics, there is a world of promise. We can live by rational concepts and are not shackled to obviously flawed traditions and superstitions to the same extent that that we are freed from the trappings and inconsistencies of empirical observations carried to unwarranted and unnecessary ends. We carry with us the great potential, the Exception. Each day holds the possibility of the extraordinary and we are bound by no "laws". We know that nothing is certain, no thing carved in stone, and in this, we are truly free.
Friday, October 22, 2010
The March to Water
Salvete! This week, I thought we could change things up with a bit of drama. The following short story i plagiarized from a dream i had; my conscious mind could never come up with anything so epic. A few of you have already read it when I originally wrote it, but that was some time ago, and I have added much to it. Enjoy...
The March to Water
...As I came upon friends and neighbors (strangers all alike), I noticed a grim business at hand. They prepared themselves in solemn procession and began to file forward. Where are we headed?
“Across the water,” a craggy old voice whispered to me. “The battles have been terrible and now it is come to an end.”
Finally! What joy, we shall crush them. The suffering shall be ended. With such an army in splendid array, our foes will be no match.
It is a wonder that they did not share my excitement, but kept to their grim business. The state of mind is vital to maintain, I reasoned, and marched silently on. I had come upon them at the edge of the water. This is whence our warships previously set gloriously and courageously out, conquest and defense simultaneously their sacred mission. Their sleek, slender bodies were smooth and cut easily through the water, as if carved in one piece from gigantic trees, which had grown since generations beyond any our people had seen. From these acnient sources, we could draw our strength, primal and eternal, a wellspring of life that seeped up out of the ground and imbued us with a power that would never be overcome. As legend told, the trees that populated our land were offspring of Yggdrasil itself; and so we fought on the very side of Life itself.
As we crossed the water, I noticed tokens being set adrift as if memorials. They were candles set upon delicate lilypads. Through the mist of dawning light, they appeared to me as perfect exemplars of life. Fire burning bright, raw, consuming energy, yet perched so perilously that the slightest turbulence might precipitate their demise into the grey depths. They spread out from our hands as the harbor entrance widened and they each followed separate paths that seemed so difficult to predict. I watched them, entranced for quite some time as I continued to absently follow the procession. Up ahead, I heard shouting. Finally, the battle is on, the time is at hand! And yet as I approached, these warcries turned to celebration and revelry.
The waters that separated our land from our most mortal enemies were shallow; indeed, perhaps our proximity was the reason we were so diametrically opposed. Though we occupied so similar a geographic region, we had nonetheless developed quite differently, and these divergences were cause for constant tension and discord. Perhaps this is the way with humanity, that we can be so near in our perspectives and yet still our slight differences metastasize into black, cancerous hatred where, in reality, understanding should flourish. We refuse to see past these insignificant differences and demonize each other, refusing to believe that each person we see is a reflection of ourselves, of our relation with the unknown. Is then, our hatred for others merely a frightened acknowledgment of our own flaws?
Finally, we reached the shores of our enemies, and I was shaken out of these laughable reveries by my returned and reignited bloodthirst. My momentary weakness was thankfully replaced by the return of my unconscious desire to avenge my family, my forebears, my country for centuries of injustice and insult at the hand of our enemy. I beat upon my chest and joined the collective cry for vengeance, and I teetered upon the very edge of insanity as I gave in to the frenzy of war. However, something was wrong.
To my amazement, we walked right through their streets, awaited, expected, yet not attacked. Watched, we passed the smooth stone roads, and the gigantic marble columns, which shone with the brilliance of the Ancients. In their likeness, I saw the embodiment of the demons I had heard of as a child. It was a polite nightmare, a silent profile of old horrors and completely unintelligible heroes, values of which I could never conceive. These were the faces of the Enemy, who had shed the blood of countless of my brethren. Strange as I now saw them for myself, they seemed almost human. They had two eyes with which to see the world, and yet they saw things so differently. They had ears which had heard such different things. They spoke words, but were they anything but poison? For the first time in my life, I felt a moment of hesitation. Were they really any different? They looked so similar to us, would I have even noticed these almost familiar faces as they silently infiltrated my homeland, doubtless on some nefarious mission? Again, I was interrupted, but I felt as if I were on the precipice of some great Realization.
We came to a Temple, and I witnessed a strange and inexplicable sight. Each one of our line, our Nation, each man, woman and child, silently bowed his head beneath their sacred fountain.
What is this?! What is this treachery, what insult, to be anointed by our foes?!
“Hush,” said the old woman who had spoken to me before. “Don’t you know? The war is over. The battles have been too long and too costly. The blood runs thick as from rivers, and we are weary.”
What do you mean?! Then are you saying...?”
“That we go to be cleansed, to be purified, so that we may stand before their altar. And be sacrificed...”
The March to Water
...As I came upon friends and neighbors (strangers all alike), I noticed a grim business at hand. They prepared themselves in solemn procession and began to file forward. Where are we headed?
“Across the water,” a craggy old voice whispered to me. “The battles have been terrible and now it is come to an end.”
Finally! What joy, we shall crush them. The suffering shall be ended. With such an army in splendid array, our foes will be no match.
It is a wonder that they did not share my excitement, but kept to their grim business. The state of mind is vital to maintain, I reasoned, and marched silently on. I had come upon them at the edge of the water. This is whence our warships previously set gloriously and courageously out, conquest and defense simultaneously their sacred mission. Their sleek, slender bodies were smooth and cut easily through the water, as if carved in one piece from gigantic trees, which had grown since generations beyond any our people had seen. From these acnient sources, we could draw our strength, primal and eternal, a wellspring of life that seeped up out of the ground and imbued us with a power that would never be overcome. As legend told, the trees that populated our land were offspring of Yggdrasil itself; and so we fought on the very side of Life itself.
As we crossed the water, I noticed tokens being set adrift as if memorials. They were candles set upon delicate lilypads. Through the mist of dawning light, they appeared to me as perfect exemplars of life. Fire burning bright, raw, consuming energy, yet perched so perilously that the slightest turbulence might precipitate their demise into the grey depths. They spread out from our hands as the harbor entrance widened and they each followed separate paths that seemed so difficult to predict. I watched them, entranced for quite some time as I continued to absently follow the procession. Up ahead, I heard shouting. Finally, the battle is on, the time is at hand! And yet as I approached, these warcries turned to celebration and revelry.
The waters that separated our land from our most mortal enemies were shallow; indeed, perhaps our proximity was the reason we were so diametrically opposed. Though we occupied so similar a geographic region, we had nonetheless developed quite differently, and these divergences were cause for constant tension and discord. Perhaps this is the way with humanity, that we can be so near in our perspectives and yet still our slight differences metastasize into black, cancerous hatred where, in reality, understanding should flourish. We refuse to see past these insignificant differences and demonize each other, refusing to believe that each person we see is a reflection of ourselves, of our relation with the unknown. Is then, our hatred for others merely a frightened acknowledgment of our own flaws?
Finally, we reached the shores of our enemies, and I was shaken out of these laughable reveries by my returned and reignited bloodthirst. My momentary weakness was thankfully replaced by the return of my unconscious desire to avenge my family, my forebears, my country for centuries of injustice and insult at the hand of our enemy. I beat upon my chest and joined the collective cry for vengeance, and I teetered upon the very edge of insanity as I gave in to the frenzy of war. However, something was wrong.
To my amazement, we walked right through their streets, awaited, expected, yet not attacked. Watched, we passed the smooth stone roads, and the gigantic marble columns, which shone with the brilliance of the Ancients. In their likeness, I saw the embodiment of the demons I had heard of as a child. It was a polite nightmare, a silent profile of old horrors and completely unintelligible heroes, values of which I could never conceive. These were the faces of the Enemy, who had shed the blood of countless of my brethren. Strange as I now saw them for myself, they seemed almost human. They had two eyes with which to see the world, and yet they saw things so differently. They had ears which had heard such different things. They spoke words, but were they anything but poison? For the first time in my life, I felt a moment of hesitation. Were they really any different? They looked so similar to us, would I have even noticed these almost familiar faces as they silently infiltrated my homeland, doubtless on some nefarious mission? Again, I was interrupted, but I felt as if I were on the precipice of some great Realization.
We came to a Temple, and I witnessed a strange and inexplicable sight. Each one of our line, our Nation, each man, woman and child, silently bowed his head beneath their sacred fountain.
What is this?! What is this treachery, what insult, to be anointed by our foes?!
“Hush,” said the old woman who had spoken to me before. “Don’t you know? The war is over. The battles have been too long and too costly. The blood runs thick as from rivers, and we are weary.”
What do you mean?! Then are you saying...?”
“That we go to be cleansed, to be purified, so that we may stand before their altar. And be sacrificed...”
Friday, October 15, 2010
Why There Are No Identical Things
Greetings once again. Last week's post was somewhat of a Structuralist piece, in my opinion, so I thought I'd change it up, lest you think me old-fashioned. In reality, I consider this a further step beyond the "theory of familiarity", which should be seen as a social theory only. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this lively dialogue, the form of which I can't help but admit borrows a bit from good ol' So-crates himself...
Why there are no Identical Things
(a dramatic dialogue in one act)
Dramatis personae: A
B
(scene opens upon A and B, who are engaged in heated debate. They are surrounded by several chairs)
A: Well then, why? Why are there no identical things? Why, I can see two identical chairs right there! I demand you explain!
B: First, will you explain to me what you mean by "identical things"?
A: What?! So, you're going to be difficult then? All right, fine then, let me pull out my Dictionary, which I happen to have for just such an occasion.
B: It is good to be so well-prepared...
A: "Identical-adj. sharing the same properties." And "thing-n. an object".
B: Well, so Identical Things would be objects that share the same properties? I may presume that we are in agreement with this then?
A: Yes, go on.
B: Well, I will firstly explain how no physical object can ever be identical. (At this, A starts with incredulity) Though I must admit, this will be a very superficial argument. Let's take these chairs you were just referring to. They seem, by all appearances, to be the same, no? They are the same size, color, shape, built from the same material, etc etc?
A: Yes, they certainly appear to be.
B: Good. And I would wager that if we examined more closely, we would find some sort of marking to indicate that they are both the same model and were probably even made in the same factory, perhaps one right after the other.
A: A safe bet. And wouldn't that prove, then, that there are, if not these two particular chairs, somewhere, and quite often indeed, many different pairs of identical chairs? (his pace quickening as he senses victory) And we could even then assume that, since they are identical to their neighbor, and that that neighbor is also identical to its neighbor, that these are all identical chairs, right on down the line?
B: Yes, that may seem to be so. However, you are failing to realize several very important points.
A: (smugly) And what might these be?
B: Firstly, you have made the assumption that we are working with some sort of idealized machine which crafts each one of these chairs in precisely the same fashion, down to the smallest detail. But this immaculate machine should appear to be even more improbable than the idea of identical things itself. In fact, the existence of this machine is either impossible or it binds us into an infinite regress. For the only way that such a machine could have been built is either by a Greater and Also Perfect Machine (which continues to imply that there is an Even Greater and Also Perfect Machine and so on) or that this perfection emerged magically out of the chaos of the less-perfect machines that assembled it. I hope you'll agree that both seem unlikely. There are always minor deviations and fluctuations in the way things work. They may lie below the surface of our perception, but they exist. And this is not to mention that in all likelihood these chairs are not made by one gigantic, all-purpose chair-making machine, but are more likely assembled by several smaller machines, which increases the chances of deviation significantly.
A: Now you are just being difficult.
B: I agree, this is only a mostly semantic argument. To me, what is far more troubling is this, that you have been unconsciously picking and choosing which qualities of these chairs qualify them for identicality. Yes, it may seem that on the surface they are the same, but even if we assume your perfect machine is at work, for the sake of argument, are these qualities of appearance and materials really the only characteristics a chair possesses? Let me ask you, how were these chairs made?
A: I do not know, but I suppose we have been imagining them on an assembly line.
B: Indeed, as have I. And on an assembly line, are not all items assembled in pieces, and then the pieces are put together as they slide down the line?
A: Yes, of course. I don't see what that has to do with it, unless you are still nagging on the idea that these pieces could be slightly, imperceptibly different.
B: No, actually, I am pointing out their chronological differences.
A: (with a return to incredulity) What is THAT supposed to mean? That one chair is OLDER than another? You cannot be serious, who would consider a chair's age as a difference?
B: And why not? Would you not point out the age of an old man and a child when describing ways in which they differ from each other? Or better yet, do not twins often refer to which one of them is older, even though one may have preceded the other only by a matter of minutes?
A: This is ludicrous. Chairs do not have ages, that is an irrelevant fact.
B: Really? Are not very old chairs valued at high prices as antiques? Does not a brand new chair have a higher retail value than one that has been slightly used and then returned? Then, it seems that the age of a chair, though it may be inanimate, must matter at some point. But, for the purposes of this argument, we have simply decided that it doesn't apply here. However, Time is just as relevant a dimension as any other, and to deny that an object might be identified by its place in spacetime seems like a hard position to justify.
A: Hmph...
B: And, if this does not satisfy you, as I know it won't, we can still consider the three dimensions we easily observe. So far, you have appealed solely to these chairs' intrinsic properties of length, width and height, and yet you have forgotten that they too can be described by their location in relation to another object. For instance, this chair is the one that is to the right of that one, and vice versa. Therefore, they occupy different spaces as well, correct? The very fact that we can distinguish one from the other makes true identicality of objects impossible. You see, the harder we look, the more differences we find.
A: Well, fine then, perhaps manmade objects cannot be identical. However, I'm afraid that this does not indict all physical objects as you so rashly boasted.
B: Is that so? Well then, I ask you to name for me two natural objects which can be identical. Certainly no living thing can be identical. It has been made unique by each and every one of its experiences. Even if we somehow created two clones, aside from them existing in an unconscious vacuum, the very minute they had even the slightest variation in sensation or experience, they would become distinct. And if they "lived" in an unconscious vacuum, then I don't know that one could rightly describe them as living at all.
A: Well, what about two cultures of the same bacteria, created in segregated compartments by parallel procedures? The two would never meet, and as far as they would "know", their respective container would house the entire universe.
B: Yes, subjectively, they would, but at the same time, these two would exist outside of the other's knowledge and so comparison amongst the two would be impossible. And, anyway, outside observers would be able to tell the two apart by exactly the same means as described above, especially their spatial location.
A: (cleverly) What if we were to switch the two specimens without the observer being aware, or even better, if we devised some mechanism to switch the two randomly without our knowing? Then we would not be able to tell the two apart, and therefore, they would be identical!
B: Well, firstly, I will caution you regarding the use of that word "random", but that is for another occasion. In this case, you continue confusing perception with reality. The two specimens would still be different, would have had different histories, but this is something we do not perceive. But, our ability to perceive certain characteristics of an object or not has no relevance to its truth value.
A: You are a tough one indeed. Well, what, then, about the molecules that make up these bacteria? And their atoms? Clearly, they are made up of the same elements which do not change.
B: Oh but again, I'm afraid that you are mistaken, my friend. You see, there is great diversity amongst atoms. Many have particular ions, in which the number of some of their constituent particles, the electrons differ. Not to mention that the electrons are by no means arranged in any specific order. It is not as you may have been lead to believe by your high school Chemistry class.
A: Wait, wait, aren't the electrons at least confined to their specific rings or something like that? I can't remember the exact word right now.
B: Orbitals, and only somewhat. Really, these are only approximations of configurations that we use to give us a rudimentary idea of how an atom is constructed. In reality, the truth is much more complicated. Our increasing precision and sophistication in both theory and experiment have led us to the basic principle and paradox of quantum theory which seems to be Uncertainty. Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle to be exact, but in sum, the picture that quantum theory presents us is merely one of probability rather than of rigid inevitability. When we say a particle is located at a certain spot, we are merely saying that there is a rather high mathematical probability that it is there. However, and though it may seem strange, it just as well could possibly be in any other spot in the Universe, though the chances of that become vanishingly smaller as one moves further away.
Another problem with this argument is simply that, once we have deconstructed an object past its molecular structure and delve into its atoms, it ceases to be what it once was. It is no longer the object, it is an atom.
A: What about numbers then? Certainly, 1 is 1 and 2 is 2. Mathematics is immune from your physical arguments.
B: This again is a flaw. Numbers are simply abstractions, they are concepts that we have agreed upon. They are a way that we can conceive of the world, that we can describe and make sense of it all. There is no thing that is 1 nor 2. They are all merely theoretical objects that we can use to impose order on the world. But remember, that we have already shown that the objects we conceptualize by them are not identical and so grouping them together can only be approximate.
A: So this is it then? We have reached the threshold, and there are no identical things. I find I can no longer argue you, and I humbly concede.
B: Don't take it too hard. In fact, I may be able to offer you some consolation. We have still one step to go, though it stands on the outskirts of, possibly even beyond, our ken. There is a twist ending to this story. Atoms, as you know, are not as elemental as their name implies. The word originated with the ancient Greeks such as Democritus and their idea that there is some sort of uncuttable particle (atomos). In the late 18th and into the 19th Century, it seems scientists were a bit hasty when they deemed the hydrogen structure the "atom", for we later found that the atom could be cut further, into protons and neutrons and electrons. As time went by, other subatomic particles were discovered. Eventually, even the particles themselves were found to be made up of tinier components called "quarks". It seemed that we were bound in an infinite regress. However, (and fortunately), many scientists generally now agree that we have reached the bottom level of fundamental particles for reasons that I currently am shamefully ignorant of. Still, scientists have lead to question what made up these quarks. Some theorists have come to a most surprising conclusion. According to Einstein's famous equation, E=mc2, which implies that matter is interchangeable with energy. String theorists assert that particles are made up of tiny loops of energy vibrating through more dimensions than we can see. This seems to suggest that in fact, when reduced to the most basic levels, all matter is composed of energy. So, when we have simplified all things to their absolute most fundamental essence, in a way, they are all made of the same thing. If this proves true, at the most basic level of the Universe, we are all one. THERE IS NOTHING BUT IDENTICAL THINGS!
(At this point, the curtain closes on a thoroughly confused A and B, and the disembodied voice of The Narrator speaks)
I'm sure that by this point you, attentive reader, have a burning question: So What? Why should I care that things are never truly identical, even though we cannot perceive the ways in which they differ? If we can't see their differences, can't we just consider them as the same? Won't we all simply go crazy if we think this way? I certainly understand your concern. Indeed, it is a question which I have pondered for a long while myself. At first, when this concept revealed itself to me, I began to wonder how I could make sense of the world ever again. We understand by identifying traits, by categorizing, by comparison. But if there are no identical things, then there is nothing by which to compare, and we can never know anything. This can be quite frustrating.
Still, one must never use frustration or the relative "hardness" of an idea as an excuse to discount it, as A pointed out earlier, our feeble attempts at comprehension have no bearing on the actual truth-value of a claim. I certainly hope that the reader also does not expect for me to "make it all better" by saying simply that this has all been a long intellectual joke. The light-hearted banter of this dialogue should not imply that this has been just silly play. This idea is real and I believe it is vitally important to understand. The point is to realize that all of the order we try to impose upon the Universe is simply that. Like any other animal, we are scared creatures who have a need to survive and have developed an instinct to try to understand the world. We must or we will die. But, we also must realize that we have merely shored up a makeshift monolith and snapped a rigid frame upon everything. The Sea of Ignorance smashes itself upon our greatest strength. We have tried to protect ourselves from the Unknown, have built a fortress to keep the savage waves out. But in the end, we have also built our own prison. What we see as real, as unshakable: society, laws, even human emotion are illusions we have crafted over millenia. They have become so ingrained and embedded as to become invisible, but they are simply things we have made. We must realize this, not to destroy them, for that it is too late, but to gain perspective on they way things truly are. The Waters are brutal and terrifying. It is likely that we will die if we set sail upon them. But we cannot let this fear hold us back. Death comes for us all, and we never know what lands may wait for us beyond the horizon...
Why there are no Identical Things
(a dramatic dialogue in one act)
Dramatis personae: A
B
(scene opens upon A and B, who are engaged in heated debate. They are surrounded by several chairs)
A: Well then, why? Why are there no identical things? Why, I can see two identical chairs right there! I demand you explain!
B: First, will you explain to me what you mean by "identical things"?
A: What?! So, you're going to be difficult then? All right, fine then, let me pull out my Dictionary, which I happen to have for just such an occasion.
B: It is good to be so well-prepared...
A: "Identical-adj. sharing the same properties." And "thing-n. an object".
B: Well, so Identical Things would be objects that share the same properties? I may presume that we are in agreement with this then?
A: Yes, go on.
B: Well, I will firstly explain how no physical object can ever be identical. (At this, A starts with incredulity) Though I must admit, this will be a very superficial argument. Let's take these chairs you were just referring to. They seem, by all appearances, to be the same, no? They are the same size, color, shape, built from the same material, etc etc?
A: Yes, they certainly appear to be.
B: Good. And I would wager that if we examined more closely, we would find some sort of marking to indicate that they are both the same model and were probably even made in the same factory, perhaps one right after the other.
A: A safe bet. And wouldn't that prove, then, that there are, if not these two particular chairs, somewhere, and quite often indeed, many different pairs of identical chairs? (his pace quickening as he senses victory) And we could even then assume that, since they are identical to their neighbor, and that that neighbor is also identical to its neighbor, that these are all identical chairs, right on down the line?
B: Yes, that may seem to be so. However, you are failing to realize several very important points.
A: (smugly) And what might these be?
B: Firstly, you have made the assumption that we are working with some sort of idealized machine which crafts each one of these chairs in precisely the same fashion, down to the smallest detail. But this immaculate machine should appear to be even more improbable than the idea of identical things itself. In fact, the existence of this machine is either impossible or it binds us into an infinite regress. For the only way that such a machine could have been built is either by a Greater and Also Perfect Machine (which continues to imply that there is an Even Greater and Also Perfect Machine and so on) or that this perfection emerged magically out of the chaos of the less-perfect machines that assembled it. I hope you'll agree that both seem unlikely. There are always minor deviations and fluctuations in the way things work. They may lie below the surface of our perception, but they exist. And this is not to mention that in all likelihood these chairs are not made by one gigantic, all-purpose chair-making machine, but are more likely assembled by several smaller machines, which increases the chances of deviation significantly.
A: Now you are just being difficult.
B: I agree, this is only a mostly semantic argument. To me, what is far more troubling is this, that you have been unconsciously picking and choosing which qualities of these chairs qualify them for identicality. Yes, it may seem that on the surface they are the same, but even if we assume your perfect machine is at work, for the sake of argument, are these qualities of appearance and materials really the only characteristics a chair possesses? Let me ask you, how were these chairs made?
A: I do not know, but I suppose we have been imagining them on an assembly line.
B: Indeed, as have I. And on an assembly line, are not all items assembled in pieces, and then the pieces are put together as they slide down the line?
A: Yes, of course. I don't see what that has to do with it, unless you are still nagging on the idea that these pieces could be slightly, imperceptibly different.
B: No, actually, I am pointing out their chronological differences.
A: (with a return to incredulity) What is THAT supposed to mean? That one chair is OLDER than another? You cannot be serious, who would consider a chair's age as a difference?
B: And why not? Would you not point out the age of an old man and a child when describing ways in which they differ from each other? Or better yet, do not twins often refer to which one of them is older, even though one may have preceded the other only by a matter of minutes?
A: This is ludicrous. Chairs do not have ages, that is an irrelevant fact.
B: Really? Are not very old chairs valued at high prices as antiques? Does not a brand new chair have a higher retail value than one that has been slightly used and then returned? Then, it seems that the age of a chair, though it may be inanimate, must matter at some point. But, for the purposes of this argument, we have simply decided that it doesn't apply here. However, Time is just as relevant a dimension as any other, and to deny that an object might be identified by its place in spacetime seems like a hard position to justify.
A: Hmph...
B: And, if this does not satisfy you, as I know it won't, we can still consider the three dimensions we easily observe. So far, you have appealed solely to these chairs' intrinsic properties of length, width and height, and yet you have forgotten that they too can be described by their location in relation to another object. For instance, this chair is the one that is to the right of that one, and vice versa. Therefore, they occupy different spaces as well, correct? The very fact that we can distinguish one from the other makes true identicality of objects impossible. You see, the harder we look, the more differences we find.
A: Well, fine then, perhaps manmade objects cannot be identical. However, I'm afraid that this does not indict all physical objects as you so rashly boasted.
B: Is that so? Well then, I ask you to name for me two natural objects which can be identical. Certainly no living thing can be identical. It has been made unique by each and every one of its experiences. Even if we somehow created two clones, aside from them existing in an unconscious vacuum, the very minute they had even the slightest variation in sensation or experience, they would become distinct. And if they "lived" in an unconscious vacuum, then I don't know that one could rightly describe them as living at all.
A: Well, what about two cultures of the same bacteria, created in segregated compartments by parallel procedures? The two would never meet, and as far as they would "know", their respective container would house the entire universe.
B: Yes, subjectively, they would, but at the same time, these two would exist outside of the other's knowledge and so comparison amongst the two would be impossible. And, anyway, outside observers would be able to tell the two apart by exactly the same means as described above, especially their spatial location.
A: (cleverly) What if we were to switch the two specimens without the observer being aware, or even better, if we devised some mechanism to switch the two randomly without our knowing? Then we would not be able to tell the two apart, and therefore, they would be identical!
B: Well, firstly, I will caution you regarding the use of that word "random", but that is for another occasion. In this case, you continue confusing perception with reality. The two specimens would still be different, would have had different histories, but this is something we do not perceive. But, our ability to perceive certain characteristics of an object or not has no relevance to its truth value.
A: You are a tough one indeed. Well, what, then, about the molecules that make up these bacteria? And their atoms? Clearly, they are made up of the same elements which do not change.
B: Oh but again, I'm afraid that you are mistaken, my friend. You see, there is great diversity amongst atoms. Many have particular ions, in which the number of some of their constituent particles, the electrons differ. Not to mention that the electrons are by no means arranged in any specific order. It is not as you may have been lead to believe by your high school Chemistry class.
A: Wait, wait, aren't the electrons at least confined to their specific rings or something like that? I can't remember the exact word right now.
B: Orbitals, and only somewhat. Really, these are only approximations of configurations that we use to give us a rudimentary idea of how an atom is constructed. In reality, the truth is much more complicated. Our increasing precision and sophistication in both theory and experiment have led us to the basic principle and paradox of quantum theory which seems to be Uncertainty. Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle to be exact, but in sum, the picture that quantum theory presents us is merely one of probability rather than of rigid inevitability. When we say a particle is located at a certain spot, we are merely saying that there is a rather high mathematical probability that it is there. However, and though it may seem strange, it just as well could possibly be in any other spot in the Universe, though the chances of that become vanishingly smaller as one moves further away.
Another problem with this argument is simply that, once we have deconstructed an object past its molecular structure and delve into its atoms, it ceases to be what it once was. It is no longer the object, it is an atom.
A: What about numbers then? Certainly, 1 is 1 and 2 is 2. Mathematics is immune from your physical arguments.
B: This again is a flaw. Numbers are simply abstractions, they are concepts that we have agreed upon. They are a way that we can conceive of the world, that we can describe and make sense of it all. There is no thing that is 1 nor 2. They are all merely theoretical objects that we can use to impose order on the world. But remember, that we have already shown that the objects we conceptualize by them are not identical and so grouping them together can only be approximate.
A: So this is it then? We have reached the threshold, and there are no identical things. I find I can no longer argue you, and I humbly concede.
B: Don't take it too hard. In fact, I may be able to offer you some consolation. We have still one step to go, though it stands on the outskirts of, possibly even beyond, our ken. There is a twist ending to this story. Atoms, as you know, are not as elemental as their name implies. The word originated with the ancient Greeks such as Democritus and their idea that there is some sort of uncuttable particle (atomos). In the late 18th and into the 19th Century, it seems scientists were a bit hasty when they deemed the hydrogen structure the "atom", for we later found that the atom could be cut further, into protons and neutrons and electrons. As time went by, other subatomic particles were discovered. Eventually, even the particles themselves were found to be made up of tinier components called "quarks". It seemed that we were bound in an infinite regress. However, (and fortunately), many scientists generally now agree that we have reached the bottom level of fundamental particles for reasons that I currently am shamefully ignorant of. Still, scientists have lead to question what made up these quarks. Some theorists have come to a most surprising conclusion. According to Einstein's famous equation, E=mc2, which implies that matter is interchangeable with energy. String theorists assert that particles are made up of tiny loops of energy vibrating through more dimensions than we can see. This seems to suggest that in fact, when reduced to the most basic levels, all matter is composed of energy. So, when we have simplified all things to their absolute most fundamental essence, in a way, they are all made of the same thing. If this proves true, at the most basic level of the Universe, we are all one. THERE IS NOTHING BUT IDENTICAL THINGS!
(At this point, the curtain closes on a thoroughly confused A and B, and the disembodied voice of The Narrator speaks)
I'm sure that by this point you, attentive reader, have a burning question: So What? Why should I care that things are never truly identical, even though we cannot perceive the ways in which they differ? If we can't see their differences, can't we just consider them as the same? Won't we all simply go crazy if we think this way? I certainly understand your concern. Indeed, it is a question which I have pondered for a long while myself. At first, when this concept revealed itself to me, I began to wonder how I could make sense of the world ever again. We understand by identifying traits, by categorizing, by comparison. But if there are no identical things, then there is nothing by which to compare, and we can never know anything. This can be quite frustrating.
Still, one must never use frustration or the relative "hardness" of an idea as an excuse to discount it, as A pointed out earlier, our feeble attempts at comprehension have no bearing on the actual truth-value of a claim. I certainly hope that the reader also does not expect for me to "make it all better" by saying simply that this has all been a long intellectual joke. The light-hearted banter of this dialogue should not imply that this has been just silly play. This idea is real and I believe it is vitally important to understand. The point is to realize that all of the order we try to impose upon the Universe is simply that. Like any other animal, we are scared creatures who have a need to survive and have developed an instinct to try to understand the world. We must or we will die. But, we also must realize that we have merely shored up a makeshift monolith and snapped a rigid frame upon everything. The Sea of Ignorance smashes itself upon our greatest strength. We have tried to protect ourselves from the Unknown, have built a fortress to keep the savage waves out. But in the end, we have also built our own prison. What we see as real, as unshakable: society, laws, even human emotion are illusions we have crafted over millenia. They have become so ingrained and embedded as to become invisible, but they are simply things we have made. We must realize this, not to destroy them, for that it is too late, but to gain perspective on they way things truly are. The Waters are brutal and terrifying. It is likely that we will die if we set sail upon them. But we cannot let this fear hold us back. Death comes for us all, and we never know what lands may wait for us beyond the horizon...
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