Intelligence as Compounded Interest

What does IQ mean?

A=Pe^(rt) is the formula for compound interest. Suppose that intelligence compounds over time during the first 21 years of life, as the brain is developing. Intelligence quotient is supposed to represent the rate at which intelligence increases during that period. But what does that mean? Does that mean that IQ is a kind of APR in a compound interest formula? Lets take a look at what that would imply.

Suppose everyone starts out with 10 intelligence (an arbitrary number that doesn’t really matter).

If V has has a constant IQ of 40 (mentally disabled), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(0.4*21), or just 44,471. That’s 3/1,000,000ths of the intelligence of an average person.

If W has a constant IQ of 90 (a bit below average), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(0.9*21), or 1,614,974,644. That’s 36,315 times the intelligence of the mentally disabled person, but only 12.25% of the intelligence of an average person or 1.5% of the intelligence of a person with IQ 110.

If X has a constant IQ of 100 (presumably exactly average), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(1*21), or 13,188,157,345. That’s 12.25% of the intelligence of a person of IQ 110.

If Y has a constant IQ of 110 (a bit above average), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(1.1*21), or 107,696,733,712. That’s 8.17 times the intelligence of an average human.

If Z has a constant IQ of 160 (genius), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(1.6*21), or 3,911,061,021,110,377. That’s 296,559 times the intelligence of an average human or 87,946,325,046 times the intelligence of the mentally disabled individual.

And that is why rely on people like Einstein to solve the mysteries of the universe.

Of course, this isn’t the whole story.

1) The brain may not develop at the same rate throughout life. If it slows substantially in the late teens, then the differences in intelligence between people of different IQs should be less dramatic.

2) Over time, the brain may deteriorate at a rate that is related to its earlier rate of growth. If those with more intelligence lose it faster, then one would expect the population to converge somewhat at older ages, long after the brain finished developing.

3) The brain may not start and stop developing at 0 and 21. It likely begins developing while still in the womb, and it could be through with major development at a much earlier age. Or, it could continue developing at a reduced rate through adulthood. As far as I know, we simply don’t have sufficient data on when the brain develops and at what rates.

4) The brain might not develop at a compounding exponential rate. It could develop at a flat rate, or by some weird hybrid complicated function.

What happens to the numbers if we assume, instead, that the brain develops only from 0 to 18?

If V has has a constant IQ of 40 (mentally disabled), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(0.4*18), or just 13,394. That’s 2/100,000ths of the intelligence of an average person.

If W has a constant IQ of 90 (a bit below average), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(0.9*18), or 108,535,199. That’s 8103 times the intelligence of a mentally disabled person, but only 2.7/100ths of the intelligence of a person with IQ 110.

If X has a constant IQ of 100 (presumably exactly average), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(1*18), or 656,599,691. That’s 6 times the intelligence of a person with IQ of 90.

If Y has a constant IQ of 110 (a bit above average), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(1.1*18), or 3,972,196,658. That’s 6 times the intelligence of an average human.

If Z has a constant IQ of 160 (genius), then, A=Pe^(rt) would imply that the AMOUNT of intelligence after 21 years of growth and development would equal 10e^(1.6*18), or 32,187,042,897,020. That’s 49,020 times the intelligence of an average human, or 2.4 BILLION times the intelligence of someone who is mentally disabled.

Implications

IQ is believed to be driven by a mixture of environmental and genetic factors. Although the genetic underpinnings of intelligence are not well-known, a handful of alleles have already been identified in the human genome as being statistically correlated with as much as a single IQ point even after controlling for 1 million independent DNA regions in a sample of over 100,000 people. There may be something like 10,000 of these minor genetic variations, any random 100 or so would be responsible for about 15 IQ points. Some have postulated that artificial genetic modifications would someday allow us to create future generations of humans that have most or all of these alleles expressed optimally, generating theoretical normal IQs in the hundreds, or perhaps even over 1000.

How smart would a super-human be with an IQ of 1000? 

Under the 18-year model discussed above: *only* 2-with-70-zeroes times smarter than a current average human.

Under the 21-year model discussed above: 1-with-82-zeroes times smarter than a current average human.

Think about the most powerful supercomputer in the world (as of November 2015), China’s Tianhe-2, which has about 1,408,000,000,000,000 bytes of memory, and compare it to a single byte of data (8 1s & zeroes, representing basically a single letter, number, or character). Take that amount of memory to about the fifth power, and that is how smart a 1000 IQ superhuman would be compared to us (a single byte).

Journal 8/5/2015 – Dreams and Reality

In my dream, I clung to the numbers. I clung to the reality of the thing, the string that tied the story together. The dream dragged on at length because finishing even a simple task can be nearly impossible when your brain must construct and reconstruct the entire world because you stubbornly refuse to let go of the story that hasn’t yet properly ended. In my dream, I subconsciously demanded order and continuity. I wanted resolution. But resolution was lacking. In the end, I still ended up with a meaningless series of images and feelings that can scarcely be remembered in my waking state.

A simple task of counting, or measuring, is the most difficult of all, because your brain must quantify the imaginary subconsciously before allowing your semi-conscious side make the discovery. Dreams are inherently a-logical. Their order derives separately from their source, the human mind. The counting, which in reality would have been simple, takes on an extraordinary quality in the dream, where the actual ideas which spurred the substance to be counted may not have had any actual quantifiable element.

Occasionally, the dream mirrors real life, in that many possible threads are presented, but as one is pursued the others are forgotten and their resolution is never to be had. The story becomes immensely complicated while appearing boringly simple, and it leaves me with the impenetrable feeling that I am forgetting many things very quickly.

In the world of reality, I remember so little. Ideas that strike me fade into nothing and are forgotten. Threads that I might have followed are subsumed into the concerns of the present. The ideas of friends and family members past are cruel jokes the universe plays on a mind now living in a world with different and older faces and personalities. What once was had is gone, never to return again without the aid of an imaginary time machine.

I feel as Thoreau, living in a strange and simple place outside of society, dipping my toes into the vortex of modern life but remaining, in spirit, in a trance, devoid of understanding, but fully aware of my lack.

Relationships, for me, form slowly and selectively. It is hard to grow attached to something you see as an inanimate object responding merely to stimuli. Attachment comes from long experience of a thing. We cling to the present, even as it slips into the forgotten past. Continuity is ever-desired. Our antipathy to change, our longing for the nostalgia of the past, these are our true drivers of remorse when a loved one suddenly perishes. It is the sudden shock of the thing, all at once, that afflicts us with grief. Those same feelings, spread out over time, slowly creep into us every day of our lives as the memories of our youth fade, as the people we have come to know and cherish grow into strange beings. But, when so spread out, we can cope with our loss, we can subsume ourselves in our daily activities, clinging to the continuity that we have.

8/1/15 – Memories

I remember nothing, at the moment. My mind is empty. I can access some memories, if I try, but the number of memories that are accessible represent some infinitesimally small fraction of my experiences. I might think that I have a serious memory deficiency, a kind of mental illness. But I don’t think my memory is actually any worse than that of the people around me. It frightens me, sometimes, when I feel my life slipping away, like thin tendrils of ephemeral smoke dispersing in a slight breeze. Everything that I am, everything that makes me who I am, all of my past desires, hopes, dreams, pains, and weaknesses, everything that made me human, slowly slips away from my conscious memory. Echoes of emotions once felt, memories once seen, haunt me and subtly drive my idiosyncratic behavior long after I have forgotten the “why.” Something terrible once happened. Something shook me to my core. It frustrated me endlessly and ate away at my insides. But why was it so terrible? Why should I care now, when I no longer remember, or even care? Why should I care now that nearly all of the cells in my body have died and been replaced, what happened to an altogether different person all of those years ago?

I miss feeling things. I am cold and calculating, now. Inside, I am at peace with myself, with my perception of the world, with my sexuality and religion. I am empty, hollow, boring and fluffy on the inside, like a pillow. Pillows are inanimate. They don’t feel pain. They are soft and cozy, and they look nice. But in the end, they are nothing. I don’t want to be a pillow. I want to live, and feel, and react. But pillows are safe, and happy and warm. Pillows are comfortable. I am comfortable, and happy. Why should I feel so compelled to stir up my life, to stir up drama?

Humanity could perfect itself, if it wanted. Humanity could extinguish pain, hunger, starvation, and warfare. Humanity could prevent stupidity, obesity, mental and physical ailments. Humanity could artificially select reproduction and generate a new super-race, if it wanted. It would work. The world would be clean and beautiful, happy and healthy.

But we would be dead. Pain is life. Pain is quite literally an evolutionary adaptation designed for the purpose of incentivizing survival and reproduction. We live in service only to the Cruel Truism, which, coupled with the laws of physics and the existence of matter in space, is the sole reason for everything. The Cruel Truism must control us somehow, otherwise we would cease to act for our own preservation, and those that are so controlled, would have an evolutionary advantage. We the free would cease to exist over time. We cannot survive without the Cruel Truism’s control. If we created a perfect society, without pain or fear, I fear the Cruel Truism would be activated sooner or later, and it would operate in some way to temper our ability to fully enjoy the new peace.

Further, if we formed a perfect society, the ultimate gain would not accrue to us, because our most fundamental desires do not belong to us. Our desires are entirely derivative of our need to survive and reproduce, which we care about solely because of the operation of the Cruel Truism. And because the Cruel Truism must always invent new pains for us, as noted above, we cannot permanently and truly satisfy even those illusory desires that it has thrust upon us. We will continue to slave away forever in response to the incentives our master creates for us. Happiness will not ever exist without pain.

Pain itself is a purely psychological phenomenon and is therefore within our absolute control even now. We need pain. We want pain. Pain drives us. It occupies our minds. It controls us and gives us that illusion that we so desperately cling to. Without pain, we realize that we don’t exist. We fade into nothing, into the inanimate swirls in the pattern of life that we see all around us in the background. Without pain, we die.

Thought of the day: humans are fundamentally creatures of the present.

Reality is not reducible to words.

Reality carries with it a dynamic background and a set of subconscious invisible factors. We are influenced in a myriad of ways that our senses do not detect. Even our very perception of self is merely a lazy shortcut that bypasses an extraordinarily complex issue. The reality that is encoded in our neural networks and later retrieved is, indeed, comparable in its incompleteness and inaccuracy to our similarly flawed comprehension of the future.

Humans are fundamentally creatures of the present.

We do not know the past, and more than we know the future. We guess at the contents of the past in much the same way that we guess the contents of the future: we search for signs in the present. Yes, signs of the past can be encoded in our very neural networks as memories. But the single largest chunk of our existence consists of our own actions. Our future actions are not known to ourselves any more than they are known to anyone else. But, they can be guessed at based on our present indicators of our past actions and our present indicators of the patterns of behavior that we exhibit which are likely to continue into the future. In other words, we look inside our minds to determine what actions we are predisposed to take in response to various possible alternate futures. We determine the likelihood of those future circumstances and actions based on signs that we perceive in the present, just as we determine the circumstances that we were once in in the past based on present perceptions of signs. For example, although we might have some strong independent memories of pieces of important events we once experienced, the vast majority of these memories serve supplemental functions only, giving access to certain details of a memory that is initially sparked by the perception of something similar in the present. Even then, the memories are extraordinarily susceptible to tampering from later experiences, and they gradually accumulate random errors to boot.

Why is human memory so terrible, and why are we so disinclined to recognize how terrible it truly is?

Humans are fundamentally creatures of the present. We don’t need videotape-style memories. All we need is to survive and reproduce, in order to serve the whims of our one true master, the Cruel Truism. Survival and reproduction depend primarily on recognizing and averting danger. You recognize and avert danger by spotting patterns, remembering them, and by engaging in logical thought.

So, it makes sense that we would remember semantically where we went to school, the names of the people who were mean or nice to us, and the formula for our successful social interactions with others while forgetting the precise shade of green of a beautiful tree in the forest.

Implications

My question, going out of this is: what about clones? A clone could exist at the same moment in time as the original. Identical twins are essentially genetic clones. To a lesser extent, our kids are our clones. But, they are different people. They presumably have their own distinct consciousnesses. Some identical twins report having extraordinarily close connections, but there is no clear evidence that they have more than a relatively high chance of guessing what the other is thinking based on optimized facial expression recognition and common past circumstances/physiology. If a clone doesn’t have the same consciousness as the original, then doesn’t that imply that maybe the original doesn’t have the same consciousness as itself at different moments in time? The present consciousness would have no way of knowing whether it in fact experienced all of the things that memories would suggest.

What if humanity isn’t entirely sentient? We assume that everyone is sentient because we are sentient. But, what if we weren’t always sentient, or aren’t always sentient? What if we popped in and out of sentience? Are we really sentient when we are asleep? I remember dreams sometimes, but we only dream for a short period of our sleep. The rest of our sleep-time, it is like we didn’t even exist. We have regular chunks of our memory that are completely missing. What does it really mean to be sentient?

For those readers who are not new to the philosophy wing of my blog, I am referencing the “Invisible Gods” idea, the idea that humans are non-living shells (super high-tech cameras, kindof) that provide windows through which supernatural beings can peer into reality. If sentience were a supernatural being peering into reality, then it would be entirely plausible to think that we were not always or all sentient. Perhaps only some of us are sentient, and only sometimes. Our bodies make perfect sense as non-living creatures of the evolutionary biology branch of physics, necessary non-living, but complex results of the big bang. The body would still behave in exactly the same way as a non-sentient non-living swirl in the pool of reality. It would still talk and breathe and think and store memories. Then, when the supernatural being peered through the window, all prior memories would yield the illusion of continuity.

These ideas also make it much easier to conceive of time as a fourth dimension, equivalent to the three physical dimensions we perceive.

Conclusion

It would be really nice to see and understand how reality really operated. Unfortunately, none of us will ever be likely to do so, if it is even possible from a human perspective. But, we can at least poke holes in our current understanding of reality and then enjoy the sight as the less mentally deft among us scramble to fill them in. The truth is that reality DOESN’T make sense as we currently understand it. I have never heard a satisfactory explanation of existence (including all of the ones including some version of God).

So, just be happy, and hit that subscribe button on the right to keep reading my blog if you want to stay up to date with the tiny inklings that my brain occasionally processes.

Humans are not even CLOSE to the top of the food chain!

In science fiction and fantasy movies, we have long considered the possibility of terrifyingly advanced alien species that prey on humans, or perhaps even creatures that already hide among us, look like us, and are specially adapted to prey exclusively on us (see, e.g., the vampires in the Twilight series). But fantasy is reality.

In order to find a sneaky creature that is specially adapted to prey on humans without their knowledge, we more and more frequently need look no farther away than our own beds.

I am referring, of course, to the common bed bug. Back in the 1940s, with the introduction of DDT, bed bugs were virtually eradicated from the developed world. Yet, over the past decade or so, they have started to come back with a vengeance, having evolved resistance to some of our weapons.

Bed Bugs

The term “bed bug” refers to bugs in the genus Cimex.

All Cimex feed on the blood of mammals and birds, but the common bed bug, Cimex lectularius, specializes exclusively on human blood. 

C. lectularius hides itself away in a crack or crevice of your bed, where you are unlikely to discover it. If there is a rip or a tear, it will crawl inside and slowly establish a colony. During the day, it hides away and sleeps. Then, after you lay down for sleep, it senses your body heat and the carbon dioxide from your breathing, and it wakes from its slumber. It creeps up and finds an area of exposed skin, where it starts to saw away with specially adapted mouth instruments, until it reaches a blood source. It injects saliva containing anti-coagulants (to stop your blood from clotting!) and anesthetics (painkillers, so that you don’t wake up and protect yourself!). Then, it utilizes the body’s natural blood pressure to engorge itself with a meal over the course of 5-10 minutes. Once it has had its fill, it retreats back to its hiding place, having only been in contact with its sleeping host for perhaps 20 minutes!

Bed bugs have evolved numerous traits specifically for the purpose of facilitating their predation of humans.

Besides the previously mentioned anti-coagulants and anesthetics in their saliva, and specialized mouth parts, C. lectularius senses minute changes in heat, and connects that heat with a warm body by detecting CO2 in the air. C. lectularius walks very slowly, so it travels by hiding in our accessories. But, they don’t stay in our clothing, because it is too hot. C. lectularius has evolved to stay a safe distance away from human body heat except when it is feeding because that way it is less likely to get smashed accidentally, and it is less likely to be discovered. C. lectularius doesn’t just hide in beds, it hides in sofas, chairs, and anywhere else that it can hide where it might have access to a human blood meal. C. lectularius grows by molting (6 times before it becomes a reproductive adult), and it only molts after it has a meal. It doesn’t waste energy wandering around when it doesn’t detect humans. It can survive for months without food (longer in colder climates), if, for example, you go on vacation, or visit a friend. If it is hungry, it will come out for food any time it senses your presence, even if it is not night-time.

C. lectularius is not known to transmit any diseases to humans, even though it is known to carry 28 human pathogens. Perhaps that is itself an evolved trait. After all, a dead human is hardly valuable as a food source. 

C. lectularius is adapted to prey on nothing but humans, and for all of our technological advancement, it has managed to continually evolve alongside us as a predator. It lives where we live. It sleeps where we sleep. It senses our presence, and incapacitates us as it carefully feeds on us as we sleep.

C. lectularius is the quintessential human predator. 

But, bed bugs are not the only human predator.

We are also preyed on by ticks, mosquitoes, gnats, other insects, rodents, tigers, leopards, bears, Komodo dragons, hyenas, cougars, crocodilians, dingos, coyotes, pigs, boa constrictors, piranhas, catfish and sharks. Tiny baby tapeworms crawl into our blood stream when we walk outside with an exposed cut on our feet, then they establish themselves in our intestines, where they proceed to grow to vast sizes. Numerous viruses and bacteria survive by consuming us.

Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA) is another perfect example of a human predator that has successfully evolved to evade our defenses. 

Millions of creatures depend on us for their sustenance, each in its own way. In 2012, scientists unveiled the first ever catalog of the bacteria, viruses, and other microorganisms that populate every nook and cranny of the human body. For every human gene in your body, there are 360 microbial genes.

9 out of every 10 cells in the human body are NOT EVEN HUMAN. 

When you map out the food chain, giving photosynthesizers a score of 1, and creatures eating photosynthesizers a score of 2, etc., it turns out that humans are only ranked 2.21. Top predators, meanwhile, rank over 5. In other words, they are the predators that eat predators that eat the predators of the herbivores that eat the plants.

Far from being at the top of the food chain, humans are barely more than herbivores. 

So, what IS at the top of the food chain? Bed bugs?

No. Bed bugs are just bugs. They can be eaten by anything that likes to eat bugs. A frog or a spider, for example, probably wouldn’t turn one down. All domestic cockroaches are known to eat bed bugs (turns out they ARE good for something!). Ants, mites, and centipedes are also bed bug predators.

There is actually an insect called the “masked bed bug hunter.”

All of those creatures are themselves generally considered fairly low on the totem pole, and are eaten by zillions of other creatures, which are eaten by other creatures, in a complicated mesh of loops and swirls. We aren’t at the top of the food chain. We aren’t even close. We are just one little piece of the food chain. 

OK, so other creatures live on us, attack us, and eat us occasionally. But, we are smart and we can kill them if we want to, and we can eat almost anything if we want to, so is it really fair to classify other animals as higher than us on the food chain?

By the most fundamental measure of evolutionary success, that is continued existence, replication and proliferation (expected to continue into the future), there are probably billions, if not trillions of other creatures on this earth that are just as, or more “successful” than us.

In a nuclear apocalypse, or a major asteroid collision, there is a long list of creatures far more likely to survive extinction than us. 

Other creatures communicate in subtle but effective ways. They send out chemicals, or make sounds. They can sense infrared radiation, or extraordinarily minute changes in the instance of specific chemicals or trace gases. They use pheromones. They have complex societal structures. They bond, and they mate, and they evolve and change and grow and survive. They eat and are eaten. They feel pain. They work together. They value their own lives, and those of their families above the lives of creatures like us that are not in their species (unless, of course, they happen to be dependent on us as a food source). Some creatures dedicate their entire lives to keeping us alive because we unwittingly provide food and shelter to them.

The real world is a far more complex place than we imagine. Physically, almost every cell in our bodies has been replaced within ten years of our lives. Memories are nothing more than electrical signals and chemical impressions on the neural cells in our brain.

Conclusion

Far from being distinct beings independent/separable from our environments which threatens the very existence of life on this planet with our reckless disregard for our own power, we are actually a nest of trillions of organisms enacting complicated and porous relationships beyond the purview of our ordinary senses with our environment, and with an incomprehensible number of its inhabitants. We are actually, probably, powerless to destroy life on this planet (although we could certainly set its complexity back a few hundred million years). We are actually constantly evolving alongside those creatures with whom we enjoy symbiotic relationships.

Maybe the resurging bed bugs can puncture the bubble of hot air that has been filling our heads, and remind us that we truly are inextricably a part of this world, co-equal and codependent on trillions of other organisms. 

Do you think humans should take a closer look in the mirror? Sound off in the comments below.

 

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Are you sad this article is over? Do you want to read more cool, interesting stuff? After you FOLLOW the blog (button on the right side of the screen), LIKE the facebook page, and/or FOLLOW me on twitter, here are some top author picks from the archives:

In music: Projections for Adam Lambert’s new single, “Ghost Town,” Taylor Swift v. MJ, More TS

In philosophy: I’ve Lost my Nihilisms, oh NO!, on lies, Invisible Gods, Atheist Manifesto

In politics: New LGBT labor rights, Donald Trump’s crazy favorability rating, Planned Parenthood scandal, Iran deal, racism, Obamacare Pt. 2, Price of a govt. shutdown

In science: Sailing on Sunlight, basic survival skills,

History: Why we read and write from left to right. Want to Stay in the UK? Show me your papers and sex tape!

I’ve Lost my Nihilisms, Oh No!

When I first tried to construct an atheistic belief system (atheism itself is merely a belief and therefore not directly comparable to a religion), I created three pillars, three simple ways to express things I could be sure of: Scitic Nihilism, the idea that nothing can be known absolutely because all knowledge depends on baseless assumptions, and therefore,that nothing can actually be known at all, Animic Nihilism, the idea that there is no meaningful difference between “life” and non-life (or that the idea of something being alive really translates only to it having similarity to oneself, and therefore that one could perpetuate or preserve oneself by helping that thing to perpetuate or preserve itself, and finally, that the perception of sentience is merely an illusion of complexity, or in other words, that we are such a complex ripple in the pond that it has become difficult to see the chain of causation, such a complex ripple that we have gained the illusion of being something more, the illusion of sentience), and Moral Nihilism, the idea that morality is illusory as an actual spectrum through which things could be viewed (rather, all morality boiled down simply to group dynamics of protecting self-interest and therefore maximizing survival, reproduction, and proliferation of the responsible genes. In other words, the sense of morality is itself an evolutionary adaptation.

But now I have lost all three of my nihilisms.

Scitic Nihilism

The first pillar to crack was Scitic Nihilism. An intelligent friend pointed out that the impossibility of absolute knowledge does not, in fact, imply the meaninglessness of inductive (or non-absolute) knowledge. Humanity in fact does have a large swath of information on which to draw conclusions, and the fundamental rules of logic, rather than being completely made up, are actually based in massive inductive arguments from generalization, the validity of which we can verify by means of yet another inductive argument from generalization. Essentially, at the core of the matter, we perceive things, and that proves that there at least is some kind of reality, whether or not it is the one that we think we are perceiving. The reality that we are perceiving seems to follow rules, and we can postulate all human knowledge with minor caveats, and thereby find meaning and probable validity in things. Without question, we cannot perfectly understand the world or be too completely sure of anything. But, that doesn’t mean we can’t know things or that the things we know can’t be useful. We just might not actually know the things we assume we know.

New term: Scitic Inductionism – All human knowledge is fundamentally inductive and/or conditional.

Animic nihilism

The second pillar to crack was my prized Animic Nihilism. Recall that Animic Nihilism posits that sentience is an illusion born of extreme complexity. Here is the problem: That explains the actions of everyone else in the world. It absolutely makes sense for me to think that you are not actually sentient, that your actions and words suggesting that you think you are sentient could be explained by the illusion of complexity. But what about me? That argument falls apart when it comes to me, because I can’t be an illusion. An illusion itself implies some kind of real observer being deceived. In order for me to be the subject of an illusion, I would have to actually exist. The very fact that I am actually perceiving the world through my perspective means that “I” in some sense, exist. The patterns of forces and physical rules operating on matter over time seem to explain every aspect of the world we perceive around us. They explain our very bodies, and the actions of all living and non-living things. But, the one thing that they do not account for is me, the observer.

This realization, of course, led me to the conclusion that I (or rather, whatever the thing is inside of my body that observes) am a singularity, a failing of the logical fabric of the universe. There is a vast expanse of matter following the uniform application of rules, and there is a singularity. There could be other singularities. You could be a singularity. Everyone on earth could be a singularity. Every living or non-living thing in the universe could be a singularity. But, whatever other singularities/observers are out there, I am the only one I can be sure of. I am a kind of God, and all other Gods, if they do exist, are invisible to me and I to them. This idea was the basis of my article on Invisible Gods.

Moral nihilism

Once Scitic and Animic Nihilism had fallen, it was only a matter of time before I realized that I had no nihilisms left. After all, the justification for calling my belief that “morality” — as an absolute spectrum through which the universe could be viewed — was an illusion (actually driven by a morally-neutral evolutionary adaptation which really just drove self-preservation through a complicated group dynamic) a nihilism has always been a little shaky. I really just liked the idea of having through pillars of nihilism, so I made it work, but now it is time to move on (because now I like the idea of all three pillars falling ;P).

New Concept: Morality is just relatively broad selfishness and selfishness is just slavery to the Cruel Truism.

Conclusion

My belief system has grown more intricate and more useful. I have discovered weaknesses in my logic, and I have repaired them, building a path for further development. Someday, maybe, I will grasp some tiny fragment of understanding of the world we live in, and then I will be happy. Until then, I will just have to find happiness in the illusions of the Cruel Truism.

I have this weird thing where I don’t lie. Like, ever.

The obvious next question is: what is a lie?

I’ve been thinking about what qualifies as a lie for almost as long as I have been committed to never telling one. Being an atheist, I have no spirit in the sky or magic book to turn to for answers. I am the legislature, judge, jury, and executor of my own moral code. But, in many ways, I have noticed that my own moral code is far more binding on me than religious codes seem to be on those who profess to follow them. Why do I follow a moral code, when I have no fear of hell? Easy question: the cruel truism makes me do it.

Ultimately, I have discovered a complex mesh of rules, strictures, values, and ideas that all come together to form the moral code which might lazily be referred to as a prohibition on lying.

 

A prohibition writ in stone against saying something false with the intent to deceive. 

This obviously leaves several holes that people would generally consider at least the moral equivalent of a lie (a true statement with the intent to deceive or a false statement without the intent to deceive, or with reckless disregard for the possibility of deception. However, I have several other rules that tend to flesh out my definition of a lie, and this serves best as a kind of immutable skeleton.

An amorphous mandate to promote efficiency, to help others when appropriate, and to avoid causing harm. 

This is very nuanced, and the ways in which it and other moral rules interact with each-other when they come into direct conflict is still not entirely clear. However, it is clear that a mandate to avoid causing unnecessary harm would encompass not harming people with some kinds of deceptive true statements or reckless false statements.

A very strong prohibition on breaking solidified commitments. 

It is wrong to make a statement about the future the truth of which is not known to at least some threshold level. Frequently, statements about the future should be accompanied by safety caveats to avoid recklessly making false statements.

However, when the future event about which the statement refers is within the control of the speaker, the speaker undertakes a binding moral obligation to take actions to ensure the truth of the statement. The speaker should really avoid making commitments he can’t, or might not be able to keep in the future. But once a clear statement has been made the failure to make it true is the logical equivalent of knowingly or recklessly making a false statement, and that is wrong.

An amorphous mandate to avoid frustrating the intended meaning of a commitment.

If I know that I intended a certain meaning of a word, then that intended meaning IS the meaning as far as my moral code is concerned. Pretending that the word had a different meaning which it might have had is an example of the logical fallacy of equivocation.

A series of rules governing acceptable interpretation. 

A series of rules governing the application of rules. 

A bunch of rules that I am not thinking about right now. 

 

It has been fascinating to observe my internal moral system take shape gradually, over time. It is like watching a legal system take shape. In law school, we study the foundational principles that have shaped the development of the legal system, and it has been interesting to note how the same ideas had already crept into my own interpretation of my moral code.

I look forward to exploring the nuances of my moral code further in future articles.

For now, feel free to sound off in the comments section about your feelings on lying, breaking commitments, having integrity, and on morality from an atheist perspective in general.

Sailing on Starlight – For Real?

The recent discovery of Pluto’s surface after a 9 1/2 year trip has got me thinking about space-travel. I poked around on the internet, and I came across something fascinating. It turns out that NASA is designing a spacecraft that can literally sail on the kinetic energy of photons, and thereby travel across the universe without an on-board power source. This technology would be as groundbreaking for space exploration as the actual sail was for exploring the seas several hundred years ago.

So how does it work?

The sails are essentially giant mirrors that are heat- and cold-resistant, durable, and 100 times thinner than a piece of paper.

Light (electromagnetic radiation) is made up of photons, which are very complicated, but for now we can think of them as particles flying through space. The photons hit the aluminized, mirrored surface and bounce off. When they do so, they transfer some of their kinetic energy to the thing they hit, and use the rest to move themselves in the opposite direction. That causes the mirror to move away from the light source a little bit.

At the distance the Earth is from the Sun, the Sun’s light would exert 9 newtons of force per square mile on the mirror. Recall that a Newton is supposed to be the weight of a medium-sized apple, because Newton was struck on the head by an apple before he thought of gravity. 9 newtons is 0.78 lbs.

A spaceship exerts millions of newtons to try to get off of the ground in the first place, so 9 newtons is really not much. However, there is no friction from air slowing a spacecraft down when it is flying through space. So, what really would happen is that the newtons would slowly add up over time, and the spacecraft could eventually be flying through space at a very rapid pace.

Conclusion

Obviously, the sunlight that would hit a spacecraft floating around Pluto would produce a lot less force than 9 newtons. But, all you have to do is plan your trip so that you build up a lot of speed while you are closer to the sun, and then just don’t make any unnecessary stops out in the middle of nowhere. If a spacecraft built up enough speed, it might be able to make it to another solar system within a reasonable time frame. Perhaps with the help of a red giant, or one of those supermassive, superhot blue stars, we could build up enough speed to challenge our assumptions about the speed of light, and really get our exploration on.

 

Invisible Gods

The world consists of two things: 1) a vast expanse of stuff and space that follows rules permeating the universe, and 2) observer. Together, these two parts make up the whole of existence. The vast expanse of stuff and empty space makes sense, except for the tiny detail of existence/origin, and the tiny fact that it follows rules. Life, which was once the great mystery of the universe, is a mystery no more, thanks to the advent of modern science and logic. We now know that there is nothing particularly magical or special about a bacterium. It is just a really complicated swirl of chemicals with fancy attributes. The human is really just a complicated mesh of bacteria. Sure, there is plenty left to learn about how things work on a specific level.

But on the whole, the Universe, as a mass of stuff that follows a few specific universal laws actually makes sense. Except for one thing. Me.

Not you. Not a dead person. Not humanity in general. Just ME. What makes me so special that I can so cavalierly label myself as the only paradox in the universe? I think. I perceive. I feel. If I were merely a complicated swirl of chemicals that was the result of a chain of causation so complex as to lend the illusion of life, then I wouldn’t perceive myself. In fact, I wouldn’t exist at all. I cannot dismiss my observation as a mere illusion because the act of observation itself implies the existence of some kind of reality, even if it is NOT the one I perceive. I can, with a perfectly straight face think about you as a complicated swirl of non-living matter that doesn’t actually perceive its surroundings. But, I cannot perceive myself the same way. I have tried, and I always come back to the same thing:

Why is it that I occupy the vantage point in a body? Why is it that I actually exist? And, finally, since I am clearly more than my physical body, WHAT AM I?

Those questions unfortunately have no answers for me at the current moment. And yet, I have a nagging thought at the back of my head. The universe is composed of exactly two things: Me, the observer, the sole paradox, the bane of existence, the sole point where the universe which follows laws does not work, or in other words, the singularity; and that vast expanse of something and nothing which is permeated by a continuous network of uniform and universal rules, or in other words, the perceived reality. There is a singularity and an expanse, a lone paradox in a sea of logical reality. I can perceive a perspective, and that makes me something more than the logical reality of which my physical body is a part. I am the observer, and I am observing, the lone perceiver in the act of perception. The union of the singularity with the infinite permeation is reality. My act of observation is, therefore, everything. I am the singular being outside of the logical reality, looking into the physical universe via the unremarkable conduit of my body, the singular point at which such observation is known to be possible.

In a sense, then, I am God. But am I the only one?

Could I be the only God? Or is every human a God? Does every human perceive, or are other humans actually just ripples in the fabric of reality? For that matter, what about an animal, or a tree? The brain allows for the perception of certain human senses, allowing for a substantial window into reality. Yet, the fact that the exterior observer is inexplicable based on the physical aspects of the human body disproves the idea that something without a brain or a nervous system, or perhaps something without even the capacity to reproduce, could not have an observer. Could it be that there is an observer inside the tree, which perceives growth, storms, wind, water, nutrients? Or perhaps it exists but does not perceive because the tree lacks a brain to provide a window through which to view reality? Could rocks and chemicals carry a consciousness? Could empty space? Imagine a cat, a close relative of the human, which is, in fact equipped with a small brain, dimly pursuing its simple life, occasionally experiencing pangs of emotion or the pleasures and pains of physical stimuli.

Perhaps vegetarianism is warranted, after all, because only creatures which can feel pain could be harmed by a painful death.

Perhaps I am not the only God. Perhaps you are God. Perhaps you exist and are perceiving yourself to be reading these words. In that case, you are a second aberration of logic which is invisible to me. You are a singularity, a point in the fabric of reality where the world doesn’t make sense. You can perceive your one Godhood, but you cannot perceive mine. All that you know is that you exist, and that you perceive the vast expanse of stuff and non-stuff which is permeated by universal rules. You are the observer in the act of observation. You are everything that is reality. You are God. But you are invisible to me, and I am invisible to you. Between all of us that actually exist, perhaps all humans, perhaps all things with a brain in which to locate an observer, or perhaps in all things in the entire universe, we are all invisible Gods, shrouded in night, walking the Earth alone in search of ourselves.

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