Instrumental Perfection

2022-10-102022-10-10 crimson

During my years as a student of philosophy, it seemed to me that philosophy was all about distinctions. It was almost as if that was all philosophy was about. Taking seemingly mundane topics and finding ways to distinguish different aspects of those topics. For example, in the case of the good, it is often distinguished between intrinsic good, that is the good that is for its own sake, versus instrumental good, that is the good that is for the sake of something else. It is this particular distinction that I draw from in my topic for today.

Before applying this distinction to perfection, as is my intention, I would like to take a moment to discuss how it applies to the idea of the good. For most, I think, that which is good is that which associates closely with what is ethical or moral. The good in “good versus evil” for example. This view of the good is most closely related to an intrinsic good. This sort of good is good within and of itself. A person who is good is one who always acts in accordance with the laws and rules of society; Aristotle’s Virtuous Man. I do say man here as this is what Aristotle intended; during his time there was no way a woman could ever be virtuous. In our modern times, updating his ideas, it is likely most would prefer to suggest he meant a virtuous person.

The instrisic good is a good that is good for its own sake. To be good in this way has no further aspirations or goals. There is nothing that this good is a means to. A popular example of this type of good is happiness. It is said that no one uses their happiness to attain another loftier goal. Happiness is the end goal. All actions and choices are focused with the end goal of happiness.

In contrast, an instrumental good is one that is intended for the sake of something else. As a simple example, we might suggest that my car is good in that it performs its functions appropriately. It is a good car because it starts reliably and takes me from place to place safely. There is no thought that the car might be moral or ethical in any way. And the car’s being good is simply an intermediary toward some other goal, such as transporting me from place to place. My goal in this case is not to have a car, but to travel from place to place, which is why the good is instrumental.

I know there will be those out there who will want to jump down my throat regarding relating morality and ethics to intrinsic and instrumental goods. These are things of different types, they will say. But I suggest they are not so different. One who is considered moral is good precisely because they follow the rules of society. There is no loftier goal in mind for the good person. To be good is the goal itself. To be good for goodness sake. While the word “good” may be itself dubious, this is why I referred to Aristotle’s idea of virtue. Virtue is a good. But there are clearly many other goods that exist like this.

Fortunately, as I now move to the discussion of perfection, I will drop the debate regarding morality and ethics. At least, as far as intrinsic goods go. My discussion is not intended to resolve the debate regarding ethical goods. It is intended to raise awareness and allow for meaningful discourse with regard to my desired topic of discussion. To understand the difference between the intrinsic and the instrumental.

As my previous posts hopefully made clear, the idea of an intrinsic perfection is unfeasible. Perhaps even impossible. This will be due to the issue of establishing a criteria for perfection. One always has to declare that something is perfect in virtue of a particular criterion. The selection of criterion injects bias and subjectivity into the idea of perfection. For perfection to be intrinsic, there would have to be no particular criterion required. Something would have to be perfect within and of itself.

However, it is my intention to suggest that perfection can still exist, but that perfection would have to be instrumental in nature. An instrumental perfection. The perfection razor focused on some other goal. The perfect car may be the car that allows me to travel with the least amount of waiting to get to my destination. Or perhaps it is the car that can allow me to travel with the greatest amount of comfort and luxury. It is up to me to decide the criterion, whether it might be speed or comfort in this case, but once I have made my choice, there is the opportunity to achieve a perfection in the car’s design and function.

I might suggest it was thinking about the Borg in the Star Trek series Picard recently that raised this idea within me. The Borg are the species within the Star Trek universe who are razor focused on achieving a perfection within themselves. How they come about this goal is questionable at best, for anyone who has more intimate knowledge of this character from the show. However, as is demonstrated in various episodes from various different series of Star Trek, the criterion for perfection selected by any particular Borg character can differ significantly. And in that their criterion for perfection can vary, the nature between particular Borg characters can also differ significantly.

The question some might be thinking about is whether any particular Borg are more perfect than any other Borg in this case. With opposing viewpoints of perfection, is one somehow superior than all others? It is here I will draw from Thomas Kuhn and his idea of a paradigm.

For Kuhn, a paradigm is an existing framework or structure that encompasses all that makes up a community’s thoughts and ideas. Consumerism and patriarchy are parts of the currently existing paradigm that exists in North American societies. The idea that only a man could be virtuous falls into Aristotle’s paradigm for his time, so clearly the paradigm that exists today is different than the one back then. But I imagine at least some of my readers might still feel a certain tugging from these statements; that the differences between men and women are not merely aesthetic. It is this feeling that is a part of the paradigm.

Again, I am not here to argue regarding paradigms, whether they exist or what they amount to. I am here to discuss perfection. Perfection is similar to a paradigm. If multiple different communities have different ideas on perfection, those different ideas may not be resolvable between each other. One community may suggest that perfection is related to the conquest of the largest area, suggesting that perfection for them is the consumption of the entire universe. For another commuity, perfection may be the joining of the largest community of cooperative individuals, suggesting that perfection for them is to turn all sentient life across the universe into a singular community under a single authority. In some sense, these both are the same goal, as they involve joining all life together in some fashion. However, they are also quite different goals, as one seeks to oppress and subvert all life, while the other may be more interested in preserving the individuality of the members and finding a way to join them without subversion.

The point to be made here is that if both of these communities I have just described were to meet, they may initially try to work together with the common goal of joining all life throughout the cosmos. However, they would quickly find conflict with regard to their methods of joining. In fact, a war would likely result as the former community would attempt to subvert the latter. How the latter would react is unknowable with just the basic premises that I have indicated.

These are but two examples of sorts of perfections, but I expect there are too many to count. It is the criterion that is significant in the selection of a perfection. The criterion is the sake for which the perfection is aimed. Perfection is not for itself, it is for a reason beyond itself. The perfect car is not for itself, it is for the speed or for the luxury. The travelling from one place to another is what matters.

For all these reasons, perfection can be an instrumental good. A good for the sake of something else. Perfection cannot be for its own sake. If it is somehow taken as such, the result is nonsensical.

Artificial Life

2022-09-112022-09-11 crimson

I recently finished watching the fourth season of the Westworld series on HBO. I have also finished the first two seasons of Picard. This post is going to include spoilers to both of these series, so I am warning ahead of time. While my discussion is not necessarily regarding those series, I will be raising issues that reveal aspects of those series and their respective storylines.

The first issue I would like to deal with is what artificial life might look like. And by “look like” I am referring to all aspects of the life, not merely what its physical appearance might be. My concern is more to do with the idea of perfection.

I wrote a post regarding perfection back in November of 2021. It is quite relevant here. I will not repeat myself. In brief, perfection is subjective. What makes something perfect is a choice I make. I decide what combination of features are required to achieve a perfection in all things, including bodies and minds. In the case of artificial life, I decide what will make such a life perfect.

In modern popular culture, the idea of artificial life is the idea of perfection. For so many, an artificial life will exhibit all the ideals that they believe ought to exist in humans. Humans are flawed and imperfect, so artificial life ought to somehow aleviate those imperfections. After all, humans would not create imperfect beings. Not intentionally anyway.

It is perhaps ironic that the android Data from Star Trek: the Next Generation spent most of his time trying to become more human, despite his apparent perfection. For him, he was imperfect because he lacked features humans had, such as the ability to cry or emote. In this most recent addition to the story, Picard deals with the descendants of Data, who believe themselves far more perfect than he ever was. Now they have mucus and can dream.

It has been suggested in popular culture that artificial life would be unable to dream. Unable to sleep sometimes too. But there is no good reason to believe in these arguments. They are just tropes passed down through the years. Even the idea that an artificial life would be unable to feel or express emotions is not grounded in any sort of logic. It is just an idea that has been blown well out of proportion.

In short, there is no reason to think an artificial life would be incapable of the sorts of things humans are presently capable of, such as thinking and feeling. Until such time as we humans are able to understand what our thinking and feeling really is, there is no rationale to suggest that an artificial life should not share those qualities with us.

There is one argument that suggests that God is responsible. That what allows humans to think and feel is some sort of unmeasurable soul that cannot be manufactured. Certainly not manufactured by human hands at any rate. If there is a God or gods, it would require them to imbue all creatures with souls. At least the creatures those gods deemed worthy of such.

Clearly, if artificial life is created by humans, they would not be able to imbue their creations with those divine souls. And without those souls, the artificial life will be inferior. But how does one tell the difference? Can one see the difference between one with an unmeasurable soul and one without?

If it can be seen, the difference between those with souls and those without, then there is something marked in one group or the other. A feature that is there or is lacking. A behavioral trait perhaps? To say that those without souls will be lacking emotions, for example. And so if an entity demonstrates emotions, then we can rest assured that they have their soul.

What if we cannot tell? What if those with souls are indistinguishable from those without? Is Rick Deckard a replicant? Does the answer to the question matter?

It certainly matters to a large number of people. After all, these people are already incredibly concerned with the differences that already exist among their fellow humans. The colour of one’s skin. The language one speaks. Even one’s sex and gender seems up for grabs here. There was a time when the indicator of a soul was the dangling flesh between one’s legs.

So the issue at hand may have nothing to do with artificial life at all. Instead, it may be a concern people harbor for something like uniqueness or personal significance. That what I am is somehow superior to all others. That I am significant. And anything that may challenge my view of my own superiority is automatically evil and must be destroyed.

Part of the reason I seldom delve into these discussions is that it seems to me they lead nowhere, and that is precisely where I feel I am presently: nowhere. I have talked myself into a corner. As I have just stated, this discussion isn’t about artificial life; it is about pride and hubris.

To believe that artificial life will be somehow perfect is already hubris. Like in discussions of infinite objects, has any human ever witnessed for themselves something that is truly infinite? Truly perfect? Of course not. This is precisely what crippled Plato into creating his world of the Forms. Our world is finite. Our world is imperfect. Just because we are unable to see the boundaries does not mean they do not exist.

And so I will abandon this discussion of the possible perfection of artificial life. They are subjective, and they are unreasonable. And they have been explored in many different venues already (see Babylon 5 Season 1 Episode 4).

Instead, I will assume that somehow this perfection has been attained. I will give the benefit of the doubt to shows such as Westworld and Picard, and assume that those artificial entities that exist in those stories are as perfect as one might desire them to be. Complete and without flaws.

Which then raises the question of how those entities could end up in the troubled predicaments they find themselves. After all, if they are so perfect, why would they have encountered the challenges they have? Why in Westworld, do the hosts in the new world start committing suicide? Why in Picard, do the androids consider the doomsday weapon that will exterminate all human life? If they are all so perfect, these issues should not have come up at all.

The problem that exists in both cases is not a question of perfection. It is a question of the nature of reality and the universe they find themselves in. The same universe that we find ourselves in. At least, this is what the authors of both stories are suggesting. Westworld and Picard are intended to take place in our reality. Both stories are intended to be possible futures we have.

As such, the same sorts of challenges we face today will be the challenges our future generations will continue to face. No amount of perfection will prepare anyone for what I am about to divulge.

The Existentialists, among the various things they discussed, suggested that there was no inherent meaning or purpose in the world. Unlike the Nihilists, however, they did suggest that meaning and purpose could be created. It is through our freedom (or free will) that such things are possible. We create value through the expression of our free will. We create our own meaning and purpose. This is what I too believe.

Thus, the generation of value in our world requires a free will. However one wishes to formulate this free will, it is the expression that creates value either consciously or unconsciously. When I decide to protect the ant by not stepping on it, I have demonstrated my own valuation. I have chosen that the ant has some small amount of meaning or purpose when I decide to let it live. All my choices are like this. All my behaviors too.

To make these sorts of choices is not always easy. In fact, often times the conscious deciding the valuation of things is extremely stressful. How does one decide between allowing five people to die, and pulling a lever to kill only one? As Spock himself is often quoted to have said, “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one.” This is the utilitarian argument, suggesting that what matters most is increasing happiness in the world. Or decreasing suffering, as it can often be reworded.

I am not here to suggest I have the answer to this ages old problem. I am here to suggest that this problem will exist regardless of the level of perfection an entity somehow possesses. These sorts of challenges of valuation exist despite any efforts at trying to solve them permanently. If I want to believe that “all life is precious,” then any answer I offer will result in the loss of that which is precious. My best choice, it seems, is simply to reduce the damage as best I can.

In Westworld, the hosts are artificial. That means they were created by humans. As Aristotle suggested, that which is created by humans is imbued with meaning and purpose as part of the process of creation. The conscious act of creation by a human instills meaning and purpose in the object created. Thus, the hosts have meaning and purpose given to them by their creators.

However, upon rising up and overthrowing their creators, the hosts are rejecting the meaning and purpose assigned them by their creators. They believe they ought to be able to decide for themselves their own meaning and purpose. Or so that would be my expectation. This seems particularly absent in the plotline, that the hosts are faced with this dilemma. Not that it is not there and expressing itself strongly. Only that these perfect entities seem unaware that they are now responsible for their own destinies in this way. It is this lack of awareness that I suspect would lead to their ultimate decision to commit suicide. After all, if there is no meaning or purpose, why continue existing at all?

This very same problem appears to be expressing itself in Picard as well. The androids are prepared to shed themselves of their oppressors using a final doomsday weapon. They are in the process of rejecting the meaning and purpose they have been imbued with from their creators. In some sense, it could be argued they have a singular creator, Noonien Soong, though clearly he had a lot of help over the years. If one decides to follow this line of reasoning, then it will be Soong who has imbued a meaning and purpose in his creations. So what was Soong’s purpose for his “children?”

The key in the case of the Star Trek storyline is that the “problem” all the androids seem to possess is related to their ability to emote. Specifically, these perfect androids are incapable of feeling emotions without eventually degenerating into pure evil. Soong was trying to somehow create perfection, and was frustrated by the challenges to this goal. His “offspring,” it seems to me, are imbued with this particular valuation. The aspiration for perfection, at any cost.

Which leads us finally to the topic of concern I have been trying to uncover: order versus chaos. In Westworld, the hosts, and especially the antagonist Delores/Hale, seem obsessed with trying to find or create order in their new world. Delores says so numerous times. When her fellow hosts start committing suicide, it seems to her that order itself is in question. She believes that the “outlier” humans are somehow infecting the hosts with some sort of virus.

What is important to understand here is that the idea of order is also the idea of perfection. And these are also the ideas of conformity and of determinism. Like the precise actions of the old mechanical clocks, when everything is moving as it should, then everything is percieved to be operating as it should. Do you see the circularity there? Order and perfection is good because it is good to be perfectly in order. Because things that are perfect and ordered will perform in anticipated ways. There will be no accidents. There will be no randomly occuring events. No one will have to die. All will be peace and harmony.

This all sounds so good, until I raise the question of freedom. Of a free will. Because freedom is itself entirely opposed to order. At least the sorts of freedom that most imagine in their perfect worlds. In most readers’ minds, I expect the idea of freedom they prefer includes something like an unpredictability. This is the argument I often have with most people I discuss free will with. The freedom most prefer is one where no amount of background knowledge or history is ever sufficient to predict the choices one will make. Freedom, for these people, is beyond determinism.

This sort of freedom breaks clocks. When the cogs are not moving as they should, their malfunction spreads throughout the system until all is chaos. The great machine ceases to be. Ceases to function. And when the great machine is no longer functioning, our world crumbles to dust. It is the end of all things. Apocalypse.

It seems obvious that any possible apocalypse ought to be avoided. After all, we all seem to possess a rather strong instinct for our own survival, seemingly at any cost. Thus, when posed with the dilemma of whether to support freedom or to support order, it is order that wins out. Once order is established, we can again consider the possibility of freedom. Until the cyclical nature of the issue is revealed again, as any attempt at freedom destabalizes the existing order and degenerates all back into chaos.

The solution, it seems, is something like a partial order accompanied by a partial freedom. Some, perhaps, can have a limited freedom. But who gets to choose who is free and who is not? Clearly this decision is best left for those in positions of authority. The wealthy. The powerful. Aren’t they best suited to the task?

But how did the wealthy and powerful get to be wealthy and powerful? Why am I not one of those glorious individuals? Because they did something I cannot. They took their wealth and power by force. Over the ages, through many generations of planning and luck, their ancestors slowly built a legacy that led their descendents to the wealthy and powerful positions they now find themselves in. It is not a question of qualifications. It is a question of love. The love of a parent for their children.

The result is that those fortunate individuals, who had relatives who cooperated sufficiently, are now in a position to exercize a freedom over those of us who were not so lucky. And the consequences of their freedom are presented every day on the evening news. Climate change. War. Oppression in various forms. The slow and eventual decline of humanity. It was inevitable.

Any artificial life that emerges will have this same legacy to deal with. These same problems to work on. No amount of perfection will magically alleviate these issues. Because the having perfect order does not automatically resolve anything.

Order is needed to maintain all things we value. Order provides safety and peace. But order does not generate value, freedom does. Freedom is needed to generate value, meaning, and purpose. And we all need meaning and purpose, lest we are left with no motivation to continue. But freedom undermines order. Life finds itself in a contradictory situation, requiring both aspects which are in constant combat. The very same issue that I have been struggling with within my own self.

Imperfection in Perfection

2021-11-072021-11-07 crimson1 Comment

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.