Sunday, April 1, 2012

An Essential Epistemological Question, and Why it Cannot Be Answered

Science is certainly an amazing thing. Within the past 100 years or so, human society has been able to formulate countless models and theories of explanation where before there was complete mystery or obliviousness. Space feels less far away, the oceans seem less deep, and our own minds are beginning to be treated a lot more like brains.

With all of this rapid progress, it might be useful to think about human knowledge and whether there are limits to this seemingly exponential trend of understanding.

Q : Will we ever know ALL the things? Is it even conceivably possible that there is a point in humankind's future when nothing will remain a mystery, and our understanding of the natural world can be declared to be virtually complete?

A : Eh. Not so fast.

In order to have a answer (at least, one that's justified and supported), we have to fully understand the question at hand. Gut reactions of "yes!" or "no!" won't be very informative. Let's look at the implications of yes and no replies.

The "yes!" people see the current trends and have full confidence that the rate of scientific progress will continue steadily or grow. They also assume that there is a finite amount of information to be gathered about the universe.

The "no!" people assume that there either limitations to what human minds can grasp or be aware of, or that the amount of information to collect and synthesize about the world is so vast that it (might as well be?) infinite.

I think that none of these assumptions have much bearing because none of them can really be shown to be truer than the others. They are assumptions, after all. One of our reasons for feeling like the question is interesting in the first place is that we don't know how much we know in relation to how much there is to know. But without knowing how close we are to knowing everything about the natural world there is no way to answer this question. Some things we know we don't know, and maybe these seem solve-able mysteries to us. But there are plenty of other things we don't know we don't know, and for all we know these could evade our understanding indefinitely.

The answer to our question is therefore one other thing that is perhaps appropriate to add to the list of unknowns.


Friday, March 30, 2012

A Poll: Pre-philosophical Perceptions of Time

The passing of time is a force that is as inevitable and familiar to us as any. Oftentimes we are all too cognizant of the ticking of the seconds, of the passing of birthday after birthday, and of the patter of ever-approaching deadlines that incessantly marches along our calendars. But the concept of time and its unique role in our lives is something we hardly ever stop to think about. What is time, after all? Clearly it is not an object. It is not something that, in an instant, we can touch or see. The non-object-ness of time intuitively seems like a very simple thing. Time does not have width, depth, or height. Time does not have spatial direction at all. In fact, you will probably agree with me when I make the overarching generalization that time has absolutely no accurate spatial analogue.

I, however, have only come to realize this and grasp its implications recently. I was shocked. Throughout my life, I have occasionally paused to consider time. And it is difficult to introspectively consider anything without visualizing it. For whatever reason, my default visualization for time has allows been a horizontal line. As time passed, I’d imagine this line stretching out to the right and further from the origin, the point of my birth, and closer toward a point of unknown location that would be my death. It wasn’t that I was always actively thinking about this image, but even when I wasn’t, it resided in the background of my ability to grasp what time is.

I thought that this conception of time was pretty ubiquitous. After a brief discussion with my dad, however, I wasn’t so sure. He strongly disagreed and insisted that time had no relationship, imagined or otherwise, with spatiality to him at all.

I decided to test my ideas against those of the general population by putting out a short survey and asking friends and family to answer a few simple questions. As you read along, try them for yourself:

1. Say that "Orange," "Purple," and "Green" are all discrete events.

Orange occurs before Purple.

Green occurs after Purple.

Describe in the box below how you would visually represent your perception of these events on a piece of paper.

2. Say that another event, "Red," occurs at the same time as Purple. How does Red fit into your visual representation?

3. When you think of the concept of time, do any spatial connotations come to mind? If so, what are they?

I tried to frame the questions in a way that left the logical structuring of chronology as ambiguous as possible; orange, purple, and green are not usually ordered in this way, and the temporal relationship between these events was not introduced linearly (“Orange occurs before Purple which occurs before Green.)

I received 24 responses. Not as much as I would’ve liked, but respectable given that this was a random survey with really no purpose other than my curiosity. Below is the breakdown of each questions’ results.

The first question: there were four very strange answers which I will list verbatim, mostly for lulz: circles of color, i would imagine fruit, i would draw a rainbow, Chemical rxn involving metal complexes. One result described a complex “black hole type thing” where colored swirls morph into colored circles...very creative stuff. But of the remaining nineteen results, every single one either listed out the colors in order from left to right or described a visual scheme with boxes or circles for events arranged left to right. 6 results explicitly stated their schematic would include arrows.

The second question: twelve responses involved placing some sort of representation of the “red” event either directly above or below the purple one. Because red was described as simultaneously, it’s not a far stretch to extrapolate that timing of events was therefore being associated with horizontal placement for these twelve schematics.

The third question: twelve people made reference to lines, left/right ordering, or axes. Five people said something like “no.” Interestingly enough, of these same five, four answered the first question by ordering the words orange, purple, and green from left to right.

Conclusion: many, many people think about time in a spatial and/or linear way. Even those who deny that time has spatial connotations to them practically ascribe a linearity to the chronology of events.*

Another less dramatic example of the pervasive conflation between the spatial and the temporal is directionality. “Forward” and “future,” “backward” and “past.” These terms just make sense together, even though they really shouldn’t. The same amount of time passes if a man walks from point A to point B than if he stayed absolutely still at A (at least, close enough to the same amount of time so that we may say it is), so why is it that words regarding physical movement and dimensionality seem so comfortable in the arena of the temporal?

These phenomena seem to be a question more of convenience than rationality. Certainly, left/right or forward/backward seems as good as any for a visual representation of time. But, conceivably, anything representing change can also represent the passing over time. You could imagine other analogies that might do the job just as well: warm/cold or light/darker, for example. WOAHZ! But for whatever reason, differences in position is the default analogy we use. I’m not sure where that comes from. Perhaps all of those graphs in math class have mightily conditioned us.


*A slight aside: how might results be affected by a default method of ordering that the structure of our language provides? The survey was taken by only English speakers. I only can wonder how the survey results might have been different if given to Hebrew or Arabic speakers who write (and maybe then also think?) right to left...would the order of events have written out as Green Purple Orange? How about results of Chinese speakers? Would the passing of time be then associated with vertical displacement instead of horizontal?

Hollow

A semi-pretentious, highly disorganized pseudo-"poem" I spontaneously wrote last year:

i am going to try to explain but possibly with limited success:

our reality is defined by perception. perception is channelled through the five senses.

by nature, by literal biological human nature, sensory faculties are geared outwards.

touch, smell, taste, sight, sound: all ways of interpreting the world outside of our skins.

yet it seems like a large part of the universe we live in everyday is missing in this.

our minds, not our brains but the actual stream of our thoughts, we have access to because it is us.

everything around us, we can understand and experience through the above mentioned senses.

but these only operate on the boundary between that outside world and the “us” of our actual bodies.

for all our efforts to be cognizant of what is around us, we are most ignorant of that which is fundamentally tethered to the “us” represented by the mind.

it’s undeniable, that our bodies take up space in the world.

but somehow we don’t stop to realize it.

the body is felt to be hollow. in a normal state devoid of aches and pains, we cannot sense it. therefore we cannot perceive it, and it doesn’t exist.

we are mere three dimensional outlines moving through space-time, unaware that we are dragging along the stuff inside.


Friday, March 16, 2012

Symbolic Systems (?)

About a month ago, after much frantic deliberation and confusion, I declared a major. I'm in love with it as a concept (and so far, in actuality), although there is one small problem: I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life explaining what it actually is.

Symbolic Systems is something that Stanford essentially made up. Some high-ups saw an exciting void between the fields of psychology, linguistics, computer science, and philosophy and decided to stick a program there. In the SymSys program, you end up with a Bachelor of Science and can choose between a number of neat sounding concentrations. The goal is that at the end of your undergraduate career, you will have learned about the mind, consciousness, intelligence, patterns, and meaning (in short, "symbolic systems") from all sorts of academic angles. The plethora of approaches is what gives this understanding strength.

I'm concentrating in what they call Philosophical Foundations, which is basically a philosophy degree focused on philosophy of mind and logic plus classes from the other three fields mentioned above. Woo philosophy!

It's basically super exciting. No clue what I'll do with a degree like that in the real world, but hey, one step at a time.

Goodbye Bio :)

Yellow and Black Bricks

I realized this as I was attempting to take a nap the other day. I think finally taking a psych course is affecting the meanderings of my half-asleep thoughts....

Try a thing! Concentrate as much as possible on the following task:
Close your eyes (after reading these instructions, of course). Imagine a field of totally generic, evenly spaced bricks that extends as far as your mental imagery mechanism can fathom. These bricks are all a generic shade of yellow.

Now that you've established your life-like, colossal brick wall, begin from the lowest row that you can imagine and methodically change each brick's color to black, from left to right in that row. Once you reach the end of the row (however long you have been able to visualize it to be), go up to the next row and do the same thing. Keep snaking along the rows of bricks, changing each brick one at a time from yellow to black, until you reach the very last brick on the top row of your imaginary wall.

Pretty cool, no? You now have a giant black wall of bricks.

At this point, open your eyes.
.
.
(don't read ahead until you've accomplished all of the above)
.
.
Here's the catch. Think back to how you made your wall of black bricks. The brick wall is obviously not real. You made it up, "thought" it up, because I asked you to. But as you were painting your imaginary bricks, I can bet you one hundred dollars that you were moving your eyes along with where the bricks would actually be if they were indeed in front of you. Isn't that weird? You subconsciously tracked the paint action with your eyes, as if you were ACTUALLY seeing the wall. Maybe you were even moving your head along with the rows.

Now that you're aware of this, try another thing. Close your eyes again and try to do the exact same task. Try your hardest to keep your eyeballs still. Even when you know about this strange quirk, you can't HELP but move your eyes as if you were actually seeing the brick wall. And while you work hard to stall your eyeballs, no bricks can change color.

Weird, no? Cool, no!? I wonder why. Perhaps this suggests that our mental imagery mechanism is so inherently tied to a visual sensory processing system beginning on the retina.

My generalized hypothesis: Wherever our mental focus lies in a mental image, our actual physical eyes focus on the point of space where the object would lie if it was real.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Poem

Came upon this poem in downtown San Jose...it's etched into a giant slab of concrete that serves as a random, giant table of sorts in the middle of a plaza. Was intrigued enough to find it a few weeks later on the interwebs. Something about it, I feel is so true.


Could be

I only sang because the lonely road was long;

and now the road and I are gone

but not the song.

I only spoke the verse to pay for borrowed time:

and now the clock and I are broken

but not the rhyme.

Possibly,

the self not being fundamental,

eternity

breathes only on the incidental.


-Ernesto Galarza

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Beginning

Hello friends. My name is Elise Sugarman, and I'm currently a college sophomore considering a degree in either Philosophy, something Biology-y, or a stressful combination of the two (even though secretly, I'm woefully lost and have no clue what I want to do with my life). I love to drink tea and listen to vinyl and pretend I'm a hipster, even though upon meeting me you'll realize that I'm obviously not one.

What is this blog, you might ask? Irrelevant Revelations? That sounds random. Well, that's the point! Sometimes I'll find myself slipping into a delirious state of frenzied philosophical thought after a particularly salient experience or a lot of caffeine. And usually during these times, I think about impractical and irrelevant things. Such ponderings don't usually sit well alongside my daily activities or conversations; they tackle questions that are both too abstract or too fundamental to ever really have satisfying answers. These ideas are usually met with a smile and an endearing "smh" by my friends, who think I'm at least partly crazy.

I've been thinking for a while about how I could express, store, and organize my ideas in a way that was more conducive to everyone's sanity. I think I've come up with the solution: this blog! Readers are more than encouraged to exercise their *free will* in deciding what to read and what not to, unlike my hapless friends that have to listen to me randomly spurt philosophical nonsense. I'll try to post when I can. For each post, I will also try to cite relevant books or people when I can.

Please note that this blog will not have the stringent logical rigor of a philosophy paper or the smooth eloquence of an English essay. It is not meant to. This will simply serve as an arena for my non sequitur, loose musings, and hopefully as you read you can muse along with me!