Tuesday, February 27, 2018

What is Truth?

Hello and welcome. This is a transcript of the Humanity podcast, Episode One: What is Truth?

The Humanity podcast is a show about evolutionary philosophy, in which we discuss the big questions of philosophy through the lens of evolutionary theory.  

What is the meaning of life? What is real and what is not? What is justice? What is God? What did the philosophers say about these things in the past, and what can we say about them today in the light of scientific advances, especially in evolutionary theory. I welcome your comments below.

These are complex topics, but my goal in this podcast is to keep things short, clear, and simple enough to be accessible to the average listener.

This is episode ONE, and I think a good topic to start with would be TRUTH. What is true and what is false, what do we mean by truth, and how do we use the concept of truth in everyday life. I’m going to try to answer the question, “Is your truth just as good as my truth?”

My answer is gonna be: “No.” Truth has to do real work in the real world. It has to work for the task it is being applied to. If it doesn’t, it’s false. You can’t say something is true unless it does the work. And truth doesn’t work for everything - it works only for the things it works for. There’s no such thing as absolute truth. Bear with me on this podcast and I will try to explain.

Obviously, I think this topic is very relevant in the era of “Fake News”, when the man who is the President of the United States at the time of this recording, Donald Trump, arguably the most powerful man in the world, according to fact-checkers spreads falsehoods, half-truths, misrepresentations, and outright lies at the rate of about five per day. Dictators and oligarchs around the world are learning from his example and using misinformation, propaganda, and accusations of “Fake News” to discredit their enemies, attack the media, and consolidate their power. The very concept of truth itself is under attack, and maybe we need to come to a better understanding of what truth actually is and why it’s so important.

So today I’m going to talk about the most common philosophical theory of truth, called the correspondence theory, and then about the approach that I prefer, which is called the pragmatic or scientific approach.

The common-sense view is that a statement is true if it accurately describes reality. So if I say the sky is blue, and you look up and today the sky actually is blue, then what I have said corresponds to and accurately describes the real world – it’s a match - and therefore it is true. This approach is called correspondence theory. Makes sense.

But there is a big problem at the centre of this approach: your reality might be different from my reality. Different people can look at the same thing and see something very different, and both can be correct. What is true for you might not be true for me.

There is an ancient Indian parable going back at least 3,000 years, of the seven blind men and the elephant. Seven blind men come across an elephant, and try to figure out what it is. One feels the trunk, and says “It’s a big snake!” Another feels the leg and says, “It’s a tree!” Another feels the tusk and says “It’s a big sharp spear!” And so on. Eventually each accuses the others of deliberately lying and they come to blows. The parable reminds us that people are blind to things they don’t directly experience. This is a problem when you are looking for the truth!

Then there is the problem of human perception. Human senses are limited, our eyes can deceive us, so are we even capable of having a true and full knowledge and understanding of reality? Is that an oasis we see in the desert or a mirage? Is that stick in the water really bent like that?

Your senses might be giving you a different reading than mine. To say something simple like the sky is blue is confusing to some people who are colorblind to blue. In a famous case in February 2015, a picture of a dress went viral on the Internet because many people with ordinary normal vision insisted that the color of the dress was gold and white, while others insisted it was black and blue. You can look for yourself if you search for #thedress.

When a bee looks at a flower it sees something very different from what we see. A deer might eat the flower, while a cat does not see it at all. What is true for the mouse is not true for the owl. What is true for someone raised in rural Afghanistan might not be true for someone raised in rural Alabama. What is real for one person is not real for another.

The parable of the seven blind men and the elephant reminds us that we all see things differently and we are blind to what we don’t experience directly. We see only a partial reality, never the whole of reality. So the philosophers going back as far as Plato and the earliest Indian thinkers have argued that there are two realities: the thing you see, and the deeper, unseeable reality, which is far more complex than we can ever grasp.

So problem number one with the common-sense correspondence view of truth is this: how can we ever know the full truth of things? Are we even capable of knowing the real deep absolute truth about any aspect of reality, or are we forever doomed to see only partial truths?

Philosophers who find the correspondence theory of truth to be inadequate have gone in two directions. One group that had a lot of influence in the past decades concluded that there is no such thing as objective truth. All truths are subjective. What is true for you might not be true for me. It all comes down to your individual point of view. These philosophers are often referred to, not always accurately, as the post-modernists, but OK, let’s just call this the post-modernist viewpoint.

The post-modernists had a great insight. They saw that when people come together in various ways, whether in geographical locations, through their occupations, through their fields of interest, or through social movements, whatever, they tend to create a common story that works for them and gives them a group identity they can get behind. These big stories are sometimes called “discourses” or “narratives”. Christianity is one narrative that explains the world in a certain way and helps you feel good about yourself. Islam is another narrative. Fascism is a narrative, nationalism is a narrative, as is liberal democracy, socialism, environmentalism, and so on.

Patrick H. Caddell, a Washington political consultant and formerly a media strategist for Jimmy Carter, summed it up: "In Washington, D.C., facts don’t matter; people have narratives, including the media, and they just ignore anything that doesn’t fit that. Why should the American people punish him [Trump] when they think the entire political culture" is like that?

We know that people can get lost in their own narrative, in their own little world. Even if a lot of it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t matter, being self-identified as Christian or a Jew or a Mormon helps you to understand who you are, how you should behave in the world, who is on your side and who is not, what is right and what is wrong, and so on. Getting behind a given narrative seems to satisfy our primal instincts for tribalism and allows us somehow to believe that we are better than those other people.

What some of the post-modernists suggested is that you should look deeper into the dominant narrative critically to see the power structure behind it. Who benefits from this narrative? Whose interests does it serve?

Right now in the United States we can see the value of the post-modernist interpretation. Donald Trump, the Republican Party, and the millions of voters who support them seem to live in a different reality than the Democratic Party and their supporters. Trump and his base promote obvious falsehoods, claim to have “alternative facts”, and denounce anything they disagree with as “fake news”.

They have created a narrative.

The purpose of the narrative is not to accurately describe reality. In fact a few years ago a Republican in the Bush administration denounced what he called the “reality-based community”, and celebrated what he considered one of the great strengths of the Republican Party: “We create our own reality.” The purpose of the Trump narrative is to reinforce tribal bonds of race, religion, and nation among Trump supporters, and create an alternate reality in which Trump is making America great again.

And let’s be clear, the Democrats also have a narrative. And while it’s all good to look critically at the power structure behind any narrative, some post-modernists went one step further and said there is no such thing as truth per se, it’s all narrative, and it’s all just a power struggle over who controls the narrative. This is why some people are calling Donald Trump the first post-modernist president. It’s doubtful he knows what post-modernism is, but for sure he is living it!

It’s a powerful analysis, but one critique of post-modernism is that it can sometimes fall into what is known as truth relativism. Truth relativism is the idea that what is true is relative to the context and circumstances it applies to. In other words, what is true for me might not be true for you. What is true in one place might not be true in another. What is true today might not be true tomorrow. And so on. So the concept of truth itself might be meaningless.

The problem with truth relativism is that truth actually does matter. It matters because false narratives eventually collapse. And we will see that soon enough with the Trump narrative. Or should I say, it will never be soon enough…

Which brings us to a different way to look at truth, which I think makes a lot more sense – the pragmatic approach. Instead of saying truth must be an accurate description of reality, because forget it, you will never get there, pragmatism says truth only needs to work. A truth claim only needs be good enough for us to get the job done.

Now let me unpack that. Because this approach is both very simple and very subtle. It’s very important to understand that for pragmatism truth does not exist outside of getting a job done. It’s very practical. Truth is a tool in our toolbox we can use to fix a problem. So truth is not just relative to the circumstances, it is directly relative – in fact it is inseparable from – the problem or objective it seeks to solve.

Therefore, when assessing a truth claim, we must always ask, true with respect to what objective?

So for example, some of Trump’s supporters might say that it is true that torture is effective. In the pragmatic approach we must ask, “Effective for what?” It has been proven that torture is effective at extracting confessions. However it has also been proven that people under torture will lie and confess to almost anything. So we must ask, is torture an effective method for solving crimes? Is torture effective in enhancing America’s image abroad? Is torture effective in supporting respect for the rule of law? Does the fear of torture deter criminals from committing crimes? Or is it perhaps true that torture gives some people the sweet taste of revenge?

Many Christians will tell you that prayer is effective for calling upon God to intervene in the real world. Scientific studies have shown however that controlled prayer sessions with fervent believers have no effect whatsoever on the target of their prayers. However, prayer does help the true believer feel that they have some small influence over circumstances over which they have no control whatsoever. It helps them feel they at least did something in circumstances in which it is impossible for them to do anything else. Sometimes, as the Christians say, all you can do is pray. So it seems that it is untrue to claim that prayer can change external events, but it is quite true to say that prayer can help some people feel like they have some control over uncontrollable events. That’s why people believe in prayer.

Pragmatism starts from the assumption that we are creatures born on this earth and shaped by evolution to make our way, to survive, to reproduce, to avoid suffering, and in general to get things done that allow us as individuals, our families, and our communities to flourish. We are goal-oriented by nature.

In the pragmatic approach, you cannot assess the validity of a truth claim unless you clearly identify the goal or objective that the truth claim seeks to address. The truth of the power of prayer or the effectiveness of torture depends upon the goal or objective achieved.

The pragmatic approach to truth is the same as the scientific approach to truth. In the scientific method you don’t waste a lot of time looking for absolute truth. Instead you look for what works to solve a problem you think needs solving.

First you come up with an idea for a solution – a proposal; a hypothesis. You don’t know yet whether your hypothesis is valid or your proposed solution will work. But you have reasons to believe it might. So you test it out experimentally and eventually under real world conditions. If it works to solve the problem, bravo, you have discovered an important truth.

We use the scientific method every day in life for the most simple tasks.

I wake up in the morning and at some point I want a cup of coffee. In order to my way to the kitchen, I make several assumptions, which are propositions about reality. Here is one assumption I make:

Proposition one: The floor will support me as I walk to the kitchen.

This is just a hypothesis. But the floor has always supported me in the past, so I think this hypothesis has a high degree of probability.

But of course I cannot be certain about this! For reasons unknown to me the floor might suddenly give way beneath my feet. There may come a strong earthquake that collapses my building. There may come an airplane crash. You never know, it has happened to others before.

Nevertheless I go get my coffee. I take it on faith that my proposition about the floor is valid, because the probability that it is not seems very low. But the only time I can call my proposition true and valid is in the act of walking across the floor to the kitchen.

Until a truth claim is verified under real-world conditions it is just a hypothesis with a greater or lesser probability of being valid.

So understand that for my specific objective, let’s say, getting myself a cup of coffee, I am not interested in the absolute truth of the floor, I’m not interested in the unseeable deeper reality of the floor, and I’m not interested in the essence of what it means to be a floor. The only truth I am interested in right now is whether the floor will support me as I walk to the kitchen.

OK, I’ve spoken enough, let me summarize:

  1. Truth is a proposition about reality.
  2. There is no such thing as absolute truth, only propositions with a greater or lesser degree of probability.
  3. Truth is a tool that we use to help us get through our day, to achieve goals, and to accomplish the things we need to accomplish.
  4. Truth always has a goal or objective.
  5. Truth cannot be separated from the goal or objective it serves.
  6. A truth claim can only be validated in the act of achieving its objective.
  7. Finally, to answer the question, “Is your truth just as good as my truth?”, the acid test for a truth claim is whether it achieves its objective. If it doesn’t work, it’s not true.

This is why a narrative like Trump’s, full of lies, falsehoods, and wishful thinking, will fail. The test will be: “Did the Trump narrative meet its stated objective of making America great again?” At the time of recording, the probability for this claim actually working out and coming true looks pretty slim…

Thanks for listening. If you want to see a transcript of this podcast with links to research, please visit me at www.Humanity.ca.

Bye for now!

Sunday, March 06, 2011

What is God?

What are people talking about when they talk about God?

Let’s start from some assumptions. Let’s assume that human belief in an almighty God is more than just foolishness and ignorance. Let’s give the billions of believers through the millennia some credit and grant that they see something at work in the universe that they cannot deny. Religious people are often heard to say, “Look around you! The evidence for God is everywhere!”

Let’s also assume a scientific approach to the question. This is no small step, for the great majority of believers don’t believe science has much to say about this question (and some say about any question!). But the scientific method has proven again and again it can come up with useful answers to difficult questions, and actually each and every one of us relies on the scientific method to some degree in practically everything we do. All the method needs to go to work for us is solid evidence.

So two assumptions: the religious believers are seeing evidence everywhere for something they call God; and the scientific method might be able to look at the evidence and tell us what God is.

Can we know what God is?

All knowledge derives from experience. That is to say, whatever we know comes in some direct or indirect way from something that has really happened. Either we can see it for ourselves, or we learn of it from someone who has seen it. Or, importantly, we know it by induction, which is to say, we infer it because all evidence seems to point to it and it looks like there is a high probability that it is so.

As I have argued in an earlier blog post, we can never be 100% certain of anything – we can only say there is a very high (or very low) probability of something being true. We know the sun will rise in the morning, because given our past experience it’s a pretty good bet. But we also know that an asteroid could strike the Earth overnight and ruin the morning for us.

How can we “know” that the sun will rise in the morning, and at the same time “know” that it might not? Because neither is certain. They are only probabilities based on real-life observation of the movements of heavenly bodies. No knowledge is certain. Knowledge is nothing more than a reliable guide to action. Science, and all knowledge, are all about probability, about reasonable certainty rather than absolute certainty.

Every day in life we assess the probabilities of this or that happening and plan and act accordingly. Common sense – and the best science – tell us that the physical world usually behaves in predictable ways. Our brains are therefore wired to look for patterns, and out of patterns to infer cause and effect, history and trajectory, the better to make intelligent decisions.

Our ability to identify patterns is critical to our survival as a species, which is why it has been hard-wired into our brains. For example, take a look at the photo above. It’s just a rusty piece of antique machinery, but we instantly see a face. This effect is called Pareidolia. (For some fun examples of this effect, see the Pareidolia group on Flickr.)

When we look at the universe, we immediately see patterns emerge. Some take this as evidence of the craftsmanship of a human-like intelligence. And it is. It is because the intelligence of the universe resides within us. Our intelligence is an expression of the intelligence inhering in the universe itself.

It’s important to understand that we see humanity in the universe because we are of the universe. The logic of the universe is our own logic, the “logos” (or “point”) of the universe is our logos. We are so inextricably bound to the cosmos as to be an expression of or a microcosm of the universe itself. We carry the logic of the universe into our daily lives. Unsurprisingly, therefore, we see ourselves reflected in it.

While the bible says that God created man in his own image, atheists tend to believe that God was created in the image of man… In fact when we look at the universe, we stand before a sort of mirror that reflects our own characteristics – and it does so because our own characteristics are inherited from this universe and are not separate from it but indelibly a part of it. To use the words of the religious, we are one in God.

This, I think, is what religious people are getting at when they say God is everywhere, God is omnipotent and omniscient, etc. They are saying God is actually the universe. Scientists would say the universe is actually the universe. If we assume that what the religious people are referring to is not an old-fashioned, anthropomorphic, and fundamentally pagan view of God as an old man with a white beard and robe living on a mountaintop or cloud, but is actually the universe itself, then we have some evidence we can work with.

Many religious people would agree that God is the universe and all that is in it. Others, led by more sophisticated theologians, would argue that God is supernatural, outside of the natural universe. God can only be known by his works. This is of course the showstopper for intelligent discussion and the ultimate hidey-hole for the religious. If the existence of God lies outside the world of evidence, it lies outside the world of knowledge, and we must throw up our hands and say, “We don’t know.” It’s just a way to say, “We don’t have any arguments left, but our blind faith will see us through.”

But we are here to take religion seriously, and if God can only be known by his works, does that in the end make any difference to a scientific analysis? After all, His works are the universe, and the scientific method has proven itself the most robust approach to understanding the universe. There are scientists who carry on the business of science in a perfectly rigorous way, and yet believe that there is something outside the natural world. Very well, it makes no difference, science carries on.

Could it be that God is really the universe and all that’s in it and therefore that science is the best and most reliable method to understanding God?

Saturday, December 25, 2010

God's Will

In my last post, I made a simple point - human beings, and indeed all species, seek to flourish. This is their primary motive, their “prime directive”, the organizing principle of their lives as individuals, as a species and as living creatures.

However, if we accept this simple point and follow it to its logical conclusions, the assumptions of philosophy and religion are revolutionized. Let me explain.

First of all I must make clear that I learned about the importance of human flourishing from Aristotle. He said the purpose of human life is “eudaimonia”. Through the centuries that term has been typically translated as “happiness”, but in recent decades a translation closer to “human flourishing” has become increasingly preferred.

The problem with the early translation is that manifestly people do not seek happiness. For example, a recent series of studies showed that people who have children are not made happier for it – in fact the opposite is true.

So why do people continue to make having children one of their life goals? Because they are not seeking happiness, they are seeking to flourish, and flourishing, seen from an evolutionary perspective, means reproducing. Happiness is a serendipitous by-product of flourishing, something that happens to you if you are flourishing.

Another problem with viewing mere happiness as the purpose of life is that it assumes an individual purpose. In fact, like childbirth, education, prosperity, or pretty much anything else associated with happiness, human flourishing is a collective effort. As humanity flourishes, so does the individual.

What the theory of evolution and the study of life have taught us is that the goal of every species is to flourish. So we must understand the prime directive of humanity to be eudaimonia: human flourishing, not individual happiness. Human flourishing seen from the point of view of evolutionary philosophy is the flourishing of the species.

If there ever was a species that did not seek to flourish, it would face extinction almost immediately. This fundamental drive, the mainspring of all living activity, the purpose of it all, the meaning of life, is the drive to flourish.

The so-called “New Atheists” tend to two mistakes. Firstly, they tend to say life has no purpose. The fact that every living thing greets every day with one over-riding goal, namely to flourish not only as an individual but primarily as a species, is apparently lost on them. The second mistake, and here Dawkins is perhaps the worst offender, is to view religion as irrational, unscientific, and probably resulting from a virus-like infection called a “meme” that is either a useless spandrel or an actively harmful parasitic idea to the species.

Religion should not be viewed as anti-scientific. Science is our attempt to explain the world. There are methods that have gained a lot of support because they provide reliable and effective explanations of the world, led by what is called “the scientific method”. And there are methods of explaining the world that are full of holes, such as mythology and religion.

Religion is an attempt to make sense of the world. That it does not use scientific methods means only that it is bad science. But religion exists because it makes sense of some natural phenomenon that real people really experience, and for which there is no generally accepted scientific explanation.

Science is here surrendering ground to ignorance. Science needs to step up to the challenge and instead of denying that there is a purpose to it all, something that is obvious to religious believers, it needs to provide a rational explanation of that purpose.

For the devout, purpose comes from God, and all that happens is “the Will of God”. It’s a simple formula. We mortals are not privy to the motives and logic of God. We are insects on the planet’s face, subject to an immense and somewhat inscrutable force. Our role is to respect that His will is law. Our role is to submit, as Islam in particular makes so clear.

When religious people speak of the Will of God, the scientist needs to recognize they are speaking in metaphors about the laws of physics, they are speaking of time and motion, they are speaking about the natural world as if it were a watch created by a master craftsman. God’s will is a metaphor for the logic of the universe. The Holy Spirit is a metaphor for the life-force that motivates us all, the drive of all living species to flourish.

We should be reminded that the first sentence of the Bible reads, “In the beginning was the logos”, where the Greek word “logos” has been translated as “the Word”, but could just as easily be translated as “the point” or “the logic”. The religious are using mythology, superstition, and bad science to explain the logic of the universe.

The scientist must approach religion as bad science, a science that encourages us to submit to the world as we find it instead of making it a better one, to surrender to nature instead of taming it. In the end what religion really tells us is to submit to the real human beings – the priests, rabbis, and imam – who take on the role of interpreting God’s will, and arrogate the power that this role confers.

The logic of the universe that we find ourselves in directs us as a species to flourish or perish. The great debate, between science and religion, between all good science and all bad science, comes down to this question: what is humanity’s surest path to flourishing?

Religion has one answer – can science provide a more rational and compelling one?

Sunday, October 24, 2010

The Meaning of Life

I have procrastinated for too long, but now let me take up the question raised in my previous post: what is the meaning of life?

For those who are interested, a good overview of the philosophical and scientific inquiries into this question can be found at Wikipedia.

It seems to me that there is only one answer to this question from the point of view of what I will call “evolutionary philosophy”, defined as the application of evolutionary theory to persistent philosophical questions. But let me develop the argument.

We can’t do better than to start with Aristotle, who believed “all knowledge and every pursuit aims at some good”, and that the “highest good” was what he called “eudaimonia”.

Eudaimonia was originally translated from the Greek as “happiness”, but in recent years it has been recognised that the English term “happiness” refers to the subjective state of mind of an individual, and is necessarily fleeting, whereas Aristotle’s intention was to describe something more objective and therefore lasting. For this reason, a more accepted translation has come to be the word “flourishing”.

When we speak of “a flourishing business” or of “blackberries flourishing on the slope”, we are not exactly speaking of happiness, but of a state of doing well or even thriving, growing, and reproducing the means of success. Isn’t it the goal of us all to flourish?

In defining the term “eudaimonia”, we encounter the tension between the individual and the collective, for what makes an individual happy is subjective and individualistic, whereas flourishing is externally defined and thus is in some sense objective (or rather “intersubjective”). Defining “eudaimonia” as simple happiness gives it quite a different meaning to that intended by Aristotle, for if the goal of life is no more than a purely subjective and individual state of pleasure and personal satisfaction, a neglect of social well-being will result. Those who are purely concerned with personal pleasure and self-interest to the neglect or even detriment of the common interest are referred to as anti-social, as psychopaths or sociopaths, and in some jurisdictions are regarded as suffering from a dangerous mental disorder.

Humans typically don’t only pursue simple happiness, for personal happiness is fleeting. Ordinary human beings seem to encounter happiness mainly as a by-product of their pursuit of loftier goals. And the phrase “loftier goals” is generally understood to refer to goals which serve the collective interest.

So what are these greater goals, or so-called “higher callings”? Examine them at all closely, and they turn out to be goals that serve the cause of human flourishing, of the flourishing of the arts, of culture, of commerce, of children, families, and communities, of knowledge and science, of humanitarianism and charity, of humanity itself.

We can say without much need for evidence beyond common experience that every living thing seeks not simple happiness, but eudaimonia, in the Aristotelian sense of “flourishing”. And such flourishing is not confined to individuals of any species, but is proper to the species itself. In other words, it is at the level of the species that the term “flourishing” takes on its greatest meaning - individuals strive for the flourishing not only of their mortal selves but primarily for the flourishing of their species.

From the point of view of evolutionary theory, surely the goal of every species is to flourish on this earth, to achieve what Aristotle described as “eudaimonia”.

Why should this be so? For the simple reason that those species who did not seek to flourish died out – and those that were most successful - those that flourished - passed on their innate desire for eudaimonia through their DNA.

As I will argue in future posts, accepting this apparently obvious drive to flourish as the fundamental motivation of human existence has profound implications for our interpretation of traditional philosophy and religion.

Sunday, December 06, 2009

Sartre and the Meaning of Life

“Life has no meaning the moment you lose the illusion of being eternal.”
- Jean-Paul Sartre
I would agree with Sartre, except on his point that being eternal is an illusion. Life has no meaning if you have no understanding, as Sartre apparently did not, that you are part of the eternal.

Of course our mortal bodies inevitably perish, and our consciousness with them, but we live on in other ways – in our children, in the memories of those who knew us, and in our contributions to humanity. But in a larger sense, we are the eternal. This is what gives our life what meaning it has.

Eastern philosophy tells us life is a swirling brook. We individuals are like the small eddies and whirlpools that form around certain rocks and fallen trees in the brook. We come and go in a moment, and then come back again, yet somehow each new instance follows a recognizable pattern, is recognizable as one of us. The brook itself is recognizably a brook, the mountain from which it flows is recognizably a mountain, which is itself on land flowing to a sea on what is recognizably a planet.

The swirls and eddies come and go but are indistinguishable from the eternal. They are an expression of the eternal. Contrary to M. Sartre, humanity is an expression of the eternal, and our meaning is indistinguishable from the meaning of it all.

And from this insight comes theories of God. God the creator, God the omniscient, God the omnipresent, God the holy spirit that flows through us all. God that gives meaning to our lives.

The childish notion of God as a bearded elder on a mountaintop, the architect who draws up the blueprints of our lives, is a projection of our own image onto the heavens. We are that creature who makes a plan and creates. As Karl Marx said,
“A spider conducts operations that resemble those of a weaver, and a bee puts to shame many an architect in the construction of her cells. But what distinguishes the worst architect from the best of bees is this, that the architect raises his structure in imagination before he erects it in reality.”
— (Capital, Vol. I, Chap. 7, Pt. 1)
Our capacity to visualize is certainly one of the defining features of humanity. But it comes at a price. We live in a world of symbols that continually encroach on reality, and sometimes become more real to us than reality itself. We have Santa Claus, we have ghosts, we have first-person video games, we have sports fantasy leagues, we have our avatars, and all of these are expressions of and symbols of ourselves and of humanity. And we have God.

Of course, humanity is in the midst of outgrowing its superstitious and primitive concepts of God as some sort of all-powerful father-figure with a flowing white beard. Humanity has looked out into the vastness of space and seen a great universe that cares little for our conceits. That an omnipotent, curiously human-like being has personally created all the complexities of the universe and has a carefully mapped-out plan for each and every one of us is a childish fantasy. This is the concept of God it is right to deny.

But it is an unjustifiable conceptual leap to go from pointing out what should be obvious – that there is no Zeus on the mountaintop taking care of us – to saying that because there is no great CEO in the sky who has given our life meaning, it must be the case that our lives have no meaning at all.

Those evolutionists who say there is no purpose to it all confuse me. They claim to be men and women of science. They claim special insight into the development of species. And yet in their zeal to deny God they remain wilfully blind to the obvious – that every living creature is imbued with great purpose, indeed is defined by it.

I will take up the issue of the real meaning of life in a later post. Suffice it to say for the moment that the meaning of life is not to be found on a mountaintop, but in our actual day-to-day experience of life as it is lived by humanity. If your life had no meaning, you would not get out of bed and go to work, you would not chase sexual partners, you would not eat, you would not help a friend. The purpose of life is to flourish as an individual and as a member of a species that lives on a planet that also has to flourish as a condition of our survival.

There are some religious folk who recognize that an anthropomorphic God is indefensible. They try to evade the question by simply saying that God is the universal – He is everything around us, He lives in all things, He is the earth and the heavens, etc. If God is indistinguishable from the natural world, then it seems clear that God, whom we cannot see, is a symbol for the natural world that we can see. In which case, why worship the symbol when we should be worshipping the reality?

As Joseph Campbell said, and here I am paraphrasing, those who take religion literally are like diners at a restaurant who try to eat the pictures off the menu. They are missing the real feast.

Sunday, November 22, 2009


Will the Sun Rise Tomorrow?

How do we know that the sun will rise tomorrow?

Bertrand Russell, in Chapter VI of his 1912 book The Problems of Philosophy, asks this question of us, as a way of introducing what philosophy has called “the problem of induction”.

No one has yet seen the sun rise tomorrow. However, we suppose that it will, based on what we have always seen in the past. Predicting what will happen with things we haven’t witnessed on the basis of things we have is called “induction”.

As likely as it seems that the sun will rise in the morning, what we know of astrophysics tells us that a comet may hit the earth tonight and knock it off its orbit before our first cup of coffee on the morrow. We cannot know the future as concerns the sun, nor indeed can we conclusively know anything about anything else for which we have no already existing empirical evidence.

It is extremely valuable to always be aware of this unfortunate reality, for it reminds us that even the most rigorous science is fallible. In effect, induction is a kind of informed guesswork, and we are wise to approach all claims based on induction with a measure of skepticism.

Is guesswork a sufficient proof of anything? Can we use it as a guide to our actions in the future? This is the problem of induction.

Saying that we can never be absolutely certain is a useful observation; to say that we can never be reasonably sure is not.

Russell does not explicitly state that one can never use past experience as a guide to future experience; only that to do so one must use what Russell calls, rather grandly, the “principle of induction” This principle is best summarized by Russell himself. We cannot expect certainty about that which we have not yet directly observed; therefore “…probability is all we ought to seek.” (Russell, p. 66)

Human beings are active, agentic creatures, pushed and pulled about by all manner of internal and external motivations, who seek knowledge not for its own sake, but because knowledge serves as a guide to action. Knowledge is a tool a person uses to accomplish a task. Knowledge must be useful and usable to qualify as knowledge. Knowledge which has no use is, by definition, useless; we often describe it as “useless information”.

This formulation can help us distinguish between knowledge and information. Knowledge has an immediately discernable use-value. Information that has no recognizable use-value is not regarded as genuine knowledge, and our brains don’t for the most part retain such information.

Human knowledge therefore relies on induction, for if knowledge is something to be used, it must be reasoned through induction that it can be used in some unknown and unreliable future. When we walk from point A to point B by putting one foot in front of the other, we induce that since our last step found solid ground, so our next step will fall on solid ground. Of course in our millions of steps there come times when this innate knowledge proves fallible.

In order to determine the usefulness of anything, we must use our powers of induction. We have had experience of this cause and that effect; we predict that a similar cause in similar circumstances will produce a similar effect.

Thus the concepts of inference, prediction, and induction inhere in the concept of knowledge. Knowledge is a hypothesis about the unexamined on the basis of the examined. The previously examined is no more than information, unless one can use it to predict the future. The sun rose yesterday. So what? A conclusion from induction – say, that the sun will also rise tomorrow – is a hypothesis on which one can base useful action, however certain we are that such knowledge will ultimately prove unreliable. Anyone who claimed to know no more about the sun than that it rose yesterday cannot claim to truly have knowledge of the sun.

This important point needs to be restated. Knowledge is inseparable from the intention of the knower. Knowledge is not a dry thing that lives on a shelf in a library. Knowledge is inseparable from the act.

Induction differs from deduction simply in that the conclusions of an inductive argument are never certain. At best, induction can point to a reasonable probability, such the probability that the sun will rise in the morning. Deduction can point to certainty, but only through a sort of sleight of hand.

Here is an example of a deductive argument:

1. All mammals suckle their young.

2. Foxes are mammals

3. Therefore, foxes suckle their young.

On the face of it, this seems a bulletproof argument, until we remember that the whole thing hinges on our definition of “mammal”. Part of what defines an animal as a mammal is that it suckles its young. Thus a deductive argument brings nothing new to the table – it merely allows us to make something more obvious.

It is only induction that allows us to make the great leaps in knowledge of which humanity is so rightly proud. Our intelligence as a species is really our powers of induction. Intelligence can be regarded as the ability to predict the future from the past – and Jeff Hawkins does so in his book, On Intelligence.

Knowledge is a guide to action based on probability. All projections for the future are of course based on an analysis of the past. All knowledge is therefore empirical. Probability is in fact an empirical principle. It has been repeatedly proven on the basis of empirical evidence that given a sufficient sampling it is possible to predict, with a reasonable degree of certainty, that the future will resemble the past. Of course, one needs a large enough sampling, and one needs to allow for a greater or lesser margin of error. Saying that probability theory is based on empirical research does not mean its predictions are deductively conclusive or constitute certain proof.

The best probability theory can offer is a prediction that given certain circumstances a given course of events will occur within a range of frequency – most of the time. And in this topsy-turvy world, perhaps, in the words of Russell, “…probability is all we ought to seek.”

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Michael Jackson Lives!

There is indeed life after death, and the disembodied spirit of Michael Jackson (among other notables) lives on among us.

But let me make clear at the outset that I don’t subscribe to any of the various species of dualism, which suggest that the mind is immaterial, and that there is some insubstantial spirit which, having a separate existence from the body, persists after death. Michael Jackson lives, like his colleague in song Madonna, in a material world.

I am quite convinced by Gilbert Ryle’s arguments against the “Ghost in the Machine” (Ryle, 1949) – and by the way, Searle’s homunculus in the Chinese Room (Searle, 1982) appears to be just another ghost in the machine – and I do consider the mind to be just what the brain does.

As Ryle points out, there is no reliable evidence of any non-material non-substance associated with our minds, and plenty of evidence that our minds and our bodies are inextricably connected. Furthermore, as a matter of common sense, in daily life we don’t treat others as if they were separate from their bodies.

U. T. Place (Place, 1956) makes the interesting argument that when we see a cloud we immediately recognize it as such. But when we are immersed in the cloud, it seems to us to be not a cloud but a fog or mist, and on closer examination, it appears to be a mass of tiny droplets of water in suspension. In fact the cloud is simultaneously all of these things, without ceasing to be any of them, and there is no need to regard the cloud, the fog, the mist, and the droplets in suspension as qualitatively different, separate, or mutually exclusive.

Place’s example of lightning also provides a flash of insight. We can see lighting in action, we can speculate on the internal physics of lightning, but we may have to be content with never being able to actually get inside lightning and examine what is going on in there up close, as we can with a cloud.

Similarly, we may have to be content with never being able to directly witness the millions, possibly billions, of simultaneous electro-bio-chemical interactions that take place at speeds of hundredths of a second within a single thought – let alone the body signals accompanying a brain state. For this reason alone we are unlikely to reproduce human intelligence exactly with a machine. And if we did, the machine would have to bear such a strong resemblance to a human being as to lead one to wonder what advantage building such a machine could confer.

But we certainly can reproduce aspects of the human mind with machines, aspects such as reasoning, calculation, and speech. One important example I’d like to look at more closely is memory.

One of the clearest distinctions between human beings and other animals is that human beings are alone in our capacity to store memories outside of our own physical bodies. We store our memories and our knowledge, things we rightfully consider to be a part of our minds, on external physical media, such as photographs, computer disks, books, and the Internet.

Recognition of this uniquely human capability can lead us to two conclusions. First, that memory is not immaterial but a physical mechanism, and therefore that the brain might be characterized as a type of physical media. We know that specific memories (and indeed many mental functions) reside in specific locations in the brain from the fact that they can be destroyed by trauma to those locations. This alone suggests that the mind is irredeemably physical.

Second, that the line dividing human life from the material world is becoming harder to draw as science progresses. We know that in addition to external material and mechanical aids to life, such as eyeglasses and canes, not to mention clothing and housing and food, we now also create internal material aids to life, such as medications, heart pacers, stents, dialysis implants, indeed whole organ donations from other human beings.

We also know that some 90% of the cells in our bodies (not 90% of our mass – bacteria are very tiny) are actually microbes with an independent life – or I should say semi-independent, since they are dependent for life on us as we are on them.[1]

All of which validates Einstein’s famous quote:

"A human being is a part of the whole, called by us, "Universe," a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest -- a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. “

But who is that “someone” we are referring to when we speak of ourselves, or of a person like Michael Jackson? Our identity is surely a product of our own experience, but it is also a product of our heredity.

Turing writes of what makes an adult human mind (Turing, p.364). He notes three components: 1) the initial state of the mind, say at birth, which includes hereditary material; 2) education; and 3) experience.

Turing takes care to distinguish between education and experience, a distinction which I consider unimportant for the purposes of this discussion. The University of Experience is where one achieves the most advanced degrees.

Turing recognizes that heredity and what we sometimes call “instinct” are in fact a form of learning, a learning on the species level that informs our thoughts and our minds from birth. Heredity is how we pass on that species-learning, a small part of which is also the learning of our own individual lifetimes.

Michael Jackson’s children have inherited something from him, have been influenced by their time with him, and most certainly have been influenced by and will continue to be influenced by his images and music long after he’s gone. It can be truthfully said that some of Michael Jackson will live on in his children, and in his children’s children to the Nth generation.

As well as inborn instinct, our selves are formed by our experiences, including our educational experiences. But these experiences are dominated by social interaction with the rest of humanity, in the first instance with our parents and family. In fact there can be no doubt that a great deal of what we consider to be our selves we owe to the family and the culture we find ourselves in. It is no exaggeration to say that we are to a considerable degree a product of a human culture and to a considerable degree a representation of that culture.

We can illustrate this by pointing to those unfortunate cases of children who are raised in cages or locked rooms or orphanages where they have little or no interaction with other human beings. Such children invariably grow up with limited language skills and limited cognitive skills. In fact we may say that through isolation such children have been denied a not-inconsequential portion of what it means to be a fully actualized human being, and after a certain age may never regain it.

The implications of this are quite significant, for it means that a considerable part of our own minds, including language, the very stuff of thought, is in fact a reflection of the greater social mind and all the memory, knowledge, and experience of our larger cultural environment. Our selfhood, often thought to be our private property, turns out to be inseparable from a larger humanity.

The reverse is equally true. Our selfhood, and indeed our very minds, belong not only to us but to a larger humanity, to which we contribute daily. This contribution takes the form of our daily work, our contributions to Wikipedia and the Internet, our interpersonal roles as teachers and friends. For some of us, such as Michael Jackson, our contribution takes the form of unforgettable music and images.

In fact we have two overlapping selves, one a private self, and the other a social. We are on the one hand a single body with a mind of its own, and on the other a single cell in the great body Hobbes referred to as Leviathan:

“For by art is created that great Leviathan called a Commonwealth, or State, in Latin civitas, which is but an artificial man; though of greater stature and strength than the natural…” (Hobbes, p. 115)

Michael Jackson’s mortal flesh may have passed on, but his spirit very much lives with us still. It has been disembodied by the circumstances of his bodily death, but his spirit has been absorbed into our greater self, the collective human mind.

What is “spirit”? It appears like the cloud of U. T. Place, which from a distance appears to be fluffy and white, but up close is seen to be a mass of tiny individual particles in suspension. “Spirit” up close can be seen to be composed of the individual memories of multitudes of people, and the spirit of Michael Jackson is the collective human experience of his time with us.

Gilbert Ryle’s example of “team spirit” (Ryle, 1949) is especially useful in making this point. He asks us to imagine a foreigner watching a cricket game, and saying that he sees all the players, but where can he see the team spirit? The answer is that it lies in the minds of the team, it operates collectively on the team and each of its members, and it evidences itself in both their individual and collective behaviours.

To conclude: our “spirits” are the contributions we have made to the collective consciousness of humanity, and in that sense our spirits live on, ghost-like, after our deaths. Our spirits are also captured in some sense in the genetic material we pass on to our children, reincarnated if you will, and that too is a lasting contribution to humanity.

But both kinds of contribution are registered on physical media of one sort or another, be it photographs, DNA, the printed word, or the memories of living human beings. Thus is the spiritual and the material seen to be one and the same.


Armstrong, D. M. (1970). The Nature of Mind.

Einstein, Albert. (1950). Out of My Later Years. New York, Gramercy Publishing Co.

Hobbes, Thomas. (1651). Leviathan.

Ryle, Gilbert. (1949). The Concept of Mind.

Searle, John. (1982). The Myth of the Computer.

Turing, A.M. (1950). Computing Machinery and Intelligence. Mind, New Series, Vol. 59, No. 236. (Oct., 1950), pp. 433-460.

[1] See Olivia Judson in the New York Times, retrieved from the Internet August 16, 2009 at http://judson.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/07/21/microbes-r-us/