Month: November 2021

Elysium

crimson

There has been a great deal of interest in space flight lately. Many ultra wealthy individuals have taken it upon themselves to compete with each other to see who can commercialize the “final frontier” first. After all, these individuals have already figured out how to squeeze every last drop of blood from our precious Earth. Space is the next natural step in this capitalist venture.

It is probably clear from my opening what I think about these people. Many of them reporting record profits over the past two years; two years which have had most of us locked up at home trying to avoid a deadly pandemic virus that is killing millions of people worldwide. I think it is pretty deplorable that these few individuals have virtually abandoned humanity in order to pursue their lofty projects, when a small fraction of their immense wealth could be used to prevent most of these tragic deaths. A small fraction of their wealth could have turned a two year pandemic into something much less devastating.

Of course, all that I say is speculative. Who knows what would have happened had various individuals made different choices over the past several years. As one who’s beliefs lean toward a hard deterministic view of the universe, I do have my doubts that they could have done otherwise. Which creates a rather depressing view of humanity and its future.

Which brings us to my topic of choice today: Elysium. Elysium was a film from 2013. The story was a commentary regarding the state of affairs observed in our modern world, and a prediction for the future. In this story, the future of humanity was not some Utopian civilisation, like in Star Trek where humanity had resolved its various problems, curing diseases and trying to spread joy throughout the galaxy. No, in this story humans did what they seem to often do, they dismissed and discarded the refuse and the undesirable.

In the story of Elysium, the ultra wealthy decided to abandon the Earth and live upon a large artificial habitat in high orbit around the Earth. Over the years, the Earth had become a miserable place to live. Pollution, climate change, poverty. It was just easier (it seems) for the wealthy to leave, than to repair the Earth.

The rest of the story focuses on an individual who was born on Earth. A sorry excuse of a person, surrounded by poverty and problems, dreaming of one day living on Elysium. Even promising his best friend that they would one day be there. Through significant hardship, he eventually makes his way to the orbiting habitat. The details of that adventure I leave to you to discover for yourself.

If it is not painfully obvious and clear, the recent interest in space exploration and commercialization by our real world wealthy elites has reminded me of this eight year old film. It seems like Neill Blomkamp‘s vision of the future may not be so distant as even he seemed to think.

We might have to wait about 150 years for an orbiting space platform to be constructed for our modern wealthy elites, but that is obviously just speculation. What isn’t speculation is that the current super rich are already setting their gaze toward space right now. What I don’t understand is how no one in the mass media has acknowledged this little gem of a film in the process.

Rigorous Philosophy: Knowledge

crimson

My partner was scrolling through her social media about a week ago, when she stumbled upon a Gettier Problem. In particular, the post she found referred to a specific case by Edmund Gettier, where an individual’s claim to knowledge is challenged, regarding who will get a job and who has ten coins in his pocket. The poster claimed to have solved the problem. Unfortunately, I cannot find this post, so I cannot look at their solution. If someone comes across this, I would be interested to know what sort of solution they decided upon.

For some background, epistemology is the study of knowledge. That is, epistemologists are concerned with what knowledge is and how we can be sure we have it. Essentially, when can we say that we know that we know something. If this brief introduction is already getting confusing, then you are still with me here.

The issue is of this idea of “knowing.” What is it “to know” something? And how can we be sure that we have it right? If someone else makes a knowledge claim, how can we verify their claim? And assuming we can, what does the claim tell us? It is an incredibly messy topic, and I don’t expect to resolve it here and now. I just hope to enlighten a little.

The first important concern to raise is the issue of certainty. That is, if I claim to know something, does this mean I am entirely certain, or just mostly certain? It seems unlikely I could ever make a claim with complete certainty; for one, I could always make a mistake. If I look into a field and see a sheep, and then make a claim that there is a sheep in the field, what if the sheep happens to be a dog disguised as a sheep? I may not have realized this, and so no amount of certainty will help me here. I could be completely certain but still entirely wrong. This clearly would not count as a knowledge claim. This is where the requirement for “truth” in knowledge claims comes in. Whatever I claim as knowledge must be true, in some sense.

The idea of truth itself has many problems, so I will work with a definition like the following: for something to be true, it has to match up perfectly with the world, at least the world as I know it. One will notice the subtle problem that has already infiltrated my claim: I already have to know something in order to make a knowledge claim. After all, I need to know something about the world in order to claim knowledge about something in the world.

It seems that a claim to knowledge is already falling into circular reasoning. To know, I must already know. I believe there is a simple solution to this dilemma: assumption. That is, if I assume the world is as I believe it to be, then I can claim knowledge about that world. Instead of starting with knowledge, I start with an assumption. Or, to put this a bit differently, my initial assumption has to be a knowledge claim.

Where I am going with all this is that all knowledge must necessarily begin with assumptions. I have to make an assumption before I can begin making claims of knowledge. For example, I have to assume that my senses are giving me accurate information regarding the world, and that that sheep I see in the field is in fact a sheep. If the sheep is not a sheep, then I do not know that a sheep is in the field. In fact, if my senses are not providing for me accurate information, then I cannot make a knowledge claim about the world either.

This leads me, inexorably, to a major problem regarding knowledge. As seems to be a growing concern among many people, what if we are all simply in a simulation? If the field itself is simulated, and does not actually exist, then I can certainly make no claim about a sheep being in a field that does not exist. Any attempt to make a claim will have to be challenged, as I can have no knowledge regarding no field.

However, if an assumption can count as knowledge, then I can start to make claims of knowledge. If I assume that this world I occupy is in fact real, and not a simulation, then I can begin to make claims to knowledge about this world. My assumption at the outset is a knowledge claim. This does sound counter intuitive.

To perhaps put this another way, I can instead suggest that every claim of knowledge includes underlying assumptions. Perhaps instead of claiming that assumptions can count as knowledge, I should instead suggest that all knowledge claims come pre-packaged with assumptions. Those assumptions are the grounding required in order to sustain the claim of knowledge. For example, I said there is a sheep in the field, but what I implied is that the field exists and is real, and that the object I see in the field is a sheep. This may now start to sound pedantic, because clearly my reference to a field obviously implies the existence of the field. This is entirely my point.

I, unfortunately, do not speak any other languages than English. So what I’m about to say may not hold true with some other languages. In English, there are many tricks of the language that bring in assumptions in subtle and sometimes insidious ways. For example, when I say “I see a sheep in the field,” my statement implies the existence of myself, my ability to see, a sheep, and a field. Also, I imply that there is a relationship of “in” that exists, whereby an object can exist within another object, in some sense. I do not say any of these assumptions, but my listener will understand these things. It is a trick of the language.

It is worth noting here that René Descartes‘s claim of certain knowledge of the self utilizes this trick. That is, to say “I think” automatically implies the statement “I exist,” which can be stated by saying “I am.” Therefore, to say “I think, I am” is simply to make a statement and make clear one of my underlying assumptions for the statement. It is, in fact, NOT a claim of certain knowledge, but instead an insidious way of suggesting that my underlying assumption counts as knowledge.

I think this is all needed. I do not believe there is any certain ground for me to utilize. Any attempt for me to find a certain ground fails, as Immanuel Kant pointed out in his Critique of Pure Reason. I necessarily must make an assumption in order to get the ball rolling. I would also argue that these underlying assumptions exist at all times, and that our language is preloaded with them. That is, when I say anything, there are many underlying assumptions that will be understood by my listener in all circumstances.

I will not dispute another if they insist that an assumption cannot possibly count as a knowledge claim. However, if they insist this is the case, I would simply point out that there can then be no claims of knowledge. After all, every possible claim to knowledge will fall flat without the support of an initial assumption about something.

Nihilism, Existentialism, and Basic Human Conditioning

crimson

I’ve been thinking about my identity recently. Who or what would I be, if it were not for the influences of my environment. Who or what would I be if I were somehow not situated, in Simone de Beauvoir‘s understanding of situation. I almost always come to the same conclusion each time: I would not exist.

Every day, I notice something else that has had a profound effect on myself and on the world I inhabit. A few days ago, that thing was Santa Claus. I had known for a very long time that the story of Santa Claus was a consumerist story, designed to sell products and get countless families out to the stores. What I realized, however, was how much the story seemed to insidiously form the foundation of consumerism as a whole.

What do you want? This is the question asked by the shadows in the 90s television series Babylon 5. For the shadows, it is a prompt to action. A call for races to fight for the things they desire. I imagine they would be quite happy if we spent all our time fighting with each other in our deluded attempts to acquire everything our hearts desired.

Ironically, this is the same question Santa asks. However, when Santa asks this question, it is not a prompt to action. Instead, it is held in front of the individual as a reward for good behavior. It is a call for individuals to conform and comply with the establishment. Be good, and Santa will give you what you want for Christmas. In fact, an individual who fights for what they want would be considered very naughty, and thus could expect coal in their stockings.

The heart of this transaction is obedience for a reward (often a material reward). Like Pavlov’s dogs, individuals are conditioned: when the bell rings, the dog becomes hungry, just as when Christmas time approaches, the children become expectant for their reward. It becomes an integral part of the individual’s behavior, just as it does for the dogs, manifesting itself in curious ways and causing potential harm.

But now imagine a world without these things. Specifically, imagine a world without Santa Claus, once a year granting everyone’s wish for the thing they most desire. For some, this will be easy. For other’s nearly impossible. For those who say it is easy, they will likely tell a story about how Santa is simply a myth. Of course a world without Santa can exist; it is the world we currently inhabit. To them, I ask if they are so certain…

Those who cannot imagine such a world, I suspect, are facing the same dilemma I face. Without those dangling rewards, without “proper” motivation, what ought I do with myself? This is the capitalist dogma, where the incentive of wealth and accumulation of property is the prime motivator to action. Santa Claus may be fictitious, but his face is the face of capitalism and consumerism.

I sometimes end up in discussions regarding universal basic income. My opponents suggest that if such a thing existed, people would lazily remain at home doing nothing indefinitely. They believe that without the motivation of money, nothing would get done and our societies would collapse. They often cite the former Soviet Union as proof of their claim. Unfortunately, the Soviet Union exhibited capitalist dogma better than the United States ever did, which led to its accelerated collapse; the Americans are well on their way to a similar outcome presently.

I keep beating around the topic. It is time I focus. All of this, as I see it, is for one purpose: purpose. Meaning. To direct large numbers of people in a direction. To motivate them to action. But not just any action. To the action that is deemed most beneficial to those decision makers in our world. This is why we are called “consumers.”

We don’t have to be though. For the nihilist, the world is without meaning or purpose. Period. No action is any better than any other action, because in a world devoid of value, all actions are truly equal. A world full of nihilists would never accomplish anything. But then again, they wouldn’t really care either, would they.

For the existentialist, there is no inherent meaning or purpose in the world. That is, there is no outside force or influence that has the privileged position of applying meaning to things. Instead, we all have that power within ourselves. It is our freedom. We choose the purpose and meaning in things. So things can have value, but only because we decide that things have that value. There are certainly better actions than others; generally the better actions are those that lead us to the things we value. But a world full of existentialists tends to have the same problem as the world of nihilists; each individual exercising their freedom is still an individual, and the actions they follow will not necessarily avoid conflict with the other individuals. Accomplishing of larger projects can be challenging.

The seemingly best option is to have an authority that establishes meaning and purpose for all. A single authority applying value to things guarantees that all individuals will agree to the value of those things. And where there is agreement, there is shared motivation toward common goals. No more pesky wasting energy assessing value on their own. No more fighting with others regarding the value of things. No, that energy can now be better spent on more important things, like innovation and progress and the accumulation of wealth.

Some will say that God is that external authority. Only God can establish the value of things. It is His will after all. In this, I will suggest that those of shared belief system will share an agreement. However, this is not the observance. Unfortunately, even those of the same faith cannot always agree on the same interpretation of that faith.

But there is still Santa Claus to save the day. Keeping all the little girls and boys highly motivated to behave in order to receive their reward. Their hearts’ greatest desires fulfilled at the flick of his nose. What better training could you hope for, for the future’s well grounded consumers.

Imperfection in Perfection

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I checked, and I haven’t yet spoken on this topic. I am surprised, as it is a pretty big deal for me. Of the things I’ve learned in this life, this may be one of the most important.

Growing up, my father was responsible for most of the things I know and think, directly or indirectly. The idea of an absolute truth, a truth about the universe that is true irrespective of all our perspectives, is one my father held onto very strongly. Even I find myself seduced by the charm of this idea. However, as I continue my life, I find that the idea of an absolute truth seems less and less likely. The world is so mysterious, and I discover things I never expected all the time. So much so that I wonder if those things we so strongly hold onto might possibly be shown false at some point.

Perfection is such a thing. What is it to be perfect? The idea seems simple enough. To be perfect is to be without flaws. To be without defects. So what is a flaw or defect? I decided to look this up online, just for completeness, and I was amused at the response I received: a flaw or defect is something that makes a thing imperfect. This loops right back to my original query. This is circular reasoning.

So far, to be perfect is to be without flaws, and a flaw is something that makes a thing imperfect. Great. That doesn’t tell me anything at all. Or, to be more accurate, it is suggestive of something about perfection. Perfection, it seems to me, is highly subjective. For a thing to be perfect, I have to decide it is perfect. For a thing to be a flaw, I have to decide it is a flaw. Only then will the definitions start to make sense. Only then can I hope to find perfection.

This all relates back to freedom, which I often talk about. I am free to decide what things will count as being perfect, and as such, I can thus decide what things will count as flaws. A perfect circle is perfect because every point in that circle is precisely the same distance from a very specific point that is not a part of that circle. This sort of definition of a circle works, but it may not be clear its reason for working. I have decided this is what counts as a circle, and so I now have a method for determining flaws: if a point on the circle is at a different distance from the specific point, then that point is a flaw in the circle. The more points that exist of this nature, the more flaws exist in the circle, and the more imperfect the circle becomes.

The question to be asked here is whether this definition of circles is justified. That is, can I suggest that there is such a thing as a circle, and thus a perfect circle? Do I need, as Plato did, to generate a realm of perfect Forms to contain these perfect objects, as our material world contains no actually perfect circles? If our current science is to be trusted, and all things are made up of atoms and molecules, then there are certainly no perfect circles in existence. Each atom is bound to each other atom in very particular ways, and those atoms are not stationary either. If I count each atom as a point in my hypothetical circle, then the distance to that circle’s specific point from each atom varies from time to time, making each atom a flaw in my circle. A very imperfect circle indeed.

This may all be quite pedantic, as no one is likely to notice those sorts of flaws at our scale. A circle that is drawn on a piece of paper may be perfect within the reasonable error of our measuring devices. I may still be inclined to suggest my circle is perfect, within reason. And that may be sufficient for most circumstances. That may be sufficient for an assessment of beauty, for example.

If this all works, so far, then I might be inclined to suggest that perfection is achievable within a certain amount of error. That is, if a flaw exists within the scope of error, then I may want to dismiss this flaw. Only when a flaw exceeds the error do I want to count it as a true flaw. But then, I have to decide now what constitutes an appropriate amount of error. In the case of my circle, I may decide that the amount of error may be determined by the limitations of my measuring equipment. However, this is still a choice that I am making. It is still subjective. Given different circumstances, my choice of an appropriate amount of error may change, and a circle that was once perfect may suddenly find itself to be imperfect.

It seems all well and good to discuss geometric objects, but what about real world objects. What about bodies? What about faces? Is there a perfect body or a perfect face? A perfect human? How would we define such a thing? I’ve heard it suggested that perfection in bodies and faces is related to bilateral symmetry. That is, every point on one side of the body or face is matched with an exact equal on the other side. The arms are precisely the same on both sides, or the eyes or the ears. Not just that those parts exist on both sides, but that they are of precisely the same size and shape and colour.

With a definition like this, it seems to suggest that what each side possesses is irrelevant, so long as there is matching going on. A person missing one arm is imperfect, but lop off the other arm, and they may possibly find their perfection once again. Would I consider a person with no arms perfect? This seems to flow naturally into the question of the perfect human.

A perfect human has both their arms. Both their legs too. In fact, there is a laundry list of features that all humans are expected to have. Physical features that I expect all humans to possess, and if they are lacking, I consider them deficient. Where does this list come from? Some might suggest the list comes from our genetic code. Upon growing from egg to fetus to baby, my genetics dictate that I will have two arms, for example. So what if a particular human’s genetics suggest otherwise? There are perfectly natural people out there with more or less appendages as a direct result of their genetic blueprints.

It can be found very easily online, if you perform a search for “human defect;” the flaws that exist as a direct result of our genetics. But if this is true, then our genetics cannot be the source of a list of perfect features. After all, we cannot use the same source for our list of perfect features that we at the same time use as our list for flaws and defects. How do I decide which features the genetics got right, and which it got wrong?

I hear some saying that if the feature promotes fitness, as in Darwin’s idea of survival of, then it is a perfect feature. But if we follow this, then different features will provide fitness in different circumstances. Where one is born, as well as when, will play a very important role in determining which features are desirable and undesirable. Not all places or times required stocky attributes over skinny ones. Sometimes the other was more desirable. Sometimes the other was more fit.

The more I ponder this, and I have been pondering for over 40 years now, the more I have decided that perfection is unreasonable. The very idea implies a subtle truth: that nothing is perfect. As humans, we seem to have decided that all things need to be categorized. This idea of categorization is important, as it helps us relate to our surroundings and the world as a whole. But it also is suggestive that there are many alike things in the world as well. Things that we can look upon and decide that they are all circles, or dogs, or people. And upon calling a thing by its category, we also decide what makes that thing representative of its category; what makes it perfect.

We decide what things fall into what categories. We, starting with Aristotle, made up these categories. As such, we decide perfection. It is subjective. To forget that we decided when something is perfect or imperfect, to elevate perfection to an absolute measure, claiming its source to be objective or from the universe itself, is to make perfection into simulacra.