Are we certain about doubt?

Today, we live in a world in which the concepts of incompleteness and uncertainty are seen as integral and inherent to information transfer. Does this mean that certainties will always conflict between any two or more agents or, even, within a single awareness? Are we sure that doubt is the only reasonable position for each of us to take about information we receive? In other words, can we be certain that doubt is the best position, given that it tends to fall on the passive and, often, unhelpful side of inaction instead of action?

Thought and action

Is thought fundamentally different from action?

Should we free information?

What if no one felt bad for copying someone else’s thought or idea? What if everyone felt free to use any information they found for any reason? Imagine a world in which you could copy one paragraph from one article, add another paragraph from a different article, throw in a few of your own thoughts, and publish the resulting article as your own.

Ownership. Intellectual property. Copyright law. These concepts are important in a digital age, but are they ultimately helping or hurting us? Are they enabling or crippling us? We have so much information at our fingertips. Yet, because this level of access to information is so new and we still think according to old principles of old media, we, collectively, are preventing ourselves, individually, from exploring how the information can be accessed and digested and repurposed for everyone’s benefit.

What if students could hand in research papers with no words of their own? Further, what if nothing was cited? Where did the information come from? Does it matter?

The history and authorship of information is important, since it frames or contextualizes thoughts and ideas. This is especially important with respect to historical analysis and commentary. That said, can we not judge the quality of an idea on its own merits?

For example, say I am writing a research paper on Christopher Columbus and I read in a book that he came to America in 1492, a basic, well-accepted fact that most of us learned in elementary school. And then I read from another source that Columbus came and killed lots of Native Americans with guns and disease. Fewer people know about that part of the story and it is possible, however unlikely, that this part of the story is wrong. Is it wrong not to cite my sources line by line in the paper?

It would be nice if I included endnotes for all of the sources I used, but is it necessary? Remember, we have tons and tons of information at our fingertips. All we have to do is send any information in question to a search engine and we will almost certainly find tons and tons of relevant articles that can confirm or deny what we read or interpreted.

On the one hand information wants to be expensive, because it’s so valuable. The right information in the right place just changes your life. On the other hand, information wants to be free, because the cost of getting it out is getting lower and lower all the time. So you have these two fighting against each other.

I didn’t write that last paragraph. Stewart Brand said it in 1984. But it summarizes the problem. The question we have to ask ourselves today, for the sake of tomorrow, is, “Should we free information?”

On Newcomb’s Problem

The Being’s prediction must be confined to my past actions, so if I have a habit of taking chances, then it is more likely that I will choose Box B. If I am conservative and normally play it safe, then it is more likely that I will choose boxes A and B. Is it more likely that a risk-taker will become conservative or that a play-it-safer will become more of a risk taker in this particular case? I have to assume that I do not already have $1 million of course.

With the pressure on, it seems far more likely that a person would act in line with his or her past proclivity than desert it. So, I can guess (and what else can I do?) that the Being would assume this about me. Therefore, in my case, I would choose Box B, since I am normally conservative. Again, this assumes that I do not already have $1 million or desperately need it.

Emotion as a mental process

Western societies of course tend to prioritize reason over emotion. Yet, if we interpret emotion as a mental process in the same way that we interpret conscious reasoning as a mental process, then can it not be argued that rationality is really a measure of ignorance and that irrationality, especially when driven by emotion, is simply mental activity that we do not understand?

The dilemma of a personal aesthetic

Personal aesthetic is often expressed in the form of, “I know what I like.” Alternatively, you might hear something like, “I know good art when I see it.” In other words, art, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Moreover, this sentiment tells us, we can be sure that what each of us deems worthy of artistic merit is, in fact, worthy of artistic merit.

Like many opinion-related situations, this creates a contradiction. For, if I consider something beautiful on the basis of personal preference and I, therefore, implicitly acknowledge that personal preference is a legitimate ground on which to form a personal aesthetic, then I cannot, at the same time, state that what I consider beautiful is factually beautiful.

This problem occurred to me a few years ago when wrestling with the problem of finding an objective translation between art and music, beginning with light and sound wave mappings. I realized that I could probably work out the technical details and let one medium generate another (e.g., make a song from a painting), but that I would still be left with the problem of having the transformed work of art retain its subjective quality.

In one sense, this isn’t really a problem, because nobody said that light and sound should present us with equally creative and intellectual possibilities. Yet, in another sense, the aesthetic response to a work of art is what makes it a work of art, so I am in this sense required to find a way of upholding aesthetic value across media if I am to be perceived by others as creating a successful translation.

Absolute free will

Suppose there is a multiverse where all possible events occur. This seems to imply that there is a limit to the number of possible events. Yet, if there is such a limit, then our degrees of freedom would seem to be likewise limited, which precludes any notion of free will as unlimited.

Living and nonliving

It seems to me that the essential difference between living and nonliving matter is one of elemental configuration. Given a finite number of chemical elements, their configuration might or might not lead to autonomous or self-directed action. Here, action within chemical compounds is defined as autonomous if compound elements work synergistically to achieve a purpose that reinforces their configuration.

Free will and choice

It seems to me that, for free will to exist, a single set of initial conditions would have to allow an infinite number of resulting event scenarios if the initial conditions were replayed. A finite number of resulting events would mean that your life is simply part of one possibility. It does not seem to follow that because there are multiple paths, the path taken is arbitrary.

Thought contagion

In “What is Wrong with Our Thoughts”, author David Stove makes the following points:

From an Enlightenment or Positivist point of view, which is Hume’s point of view, and mine, there is simply no avoiding the conclusion that the human race is mad. There are scarcely any human beings who do not have some lunatic beliefs or other to which they attach great importance.

But let us never forget, either, as all conventional history of philosophy conspires to make us forget, what the ‘great thinkers’ really are: proper objects, indeed, of pity, but even more, of horror.

I became interested in philosophy as a teenager. My foray into the vast subject began with religion, specifically, with the question of God’s existence. So, I naturally began with René Descartes and Thomas Aquinas.

That was over a decade ago. Since then, I have read the thoughts and opinions of many philosophers. My favorites include Hume, Russell, and Wittgenstein. My least favorite philosophers include Heidegger, Schopenhauer, and Derrida.

Although, even those in this latter category I find stimulating and worthy of study. What separates my favorite philosophers from my least favorite seems to be a single difference, which is, namely, their use of language or writing style. Those philosophers I most favor show a masterful use of conciseness and clarity in explaining their thoughts. Essentially, I find that I have to think less when reading my favorite philosophers than when reading my least favorite ones, while my return on investment is the same or, often, greater, with the former.

This is not to say that Hume, for example, thought more clearly than Heidegger most of the time. I am simply saying that it takes less thought to decipher what Hume meant than Heidegger. Heidegger was clearly brilliant and left us with great metaphysical insights, which we would be wise to learn today. Yet, he often seems to have clouded those insights in verbage.