In philosophy’s problem of free will there are three major schools of thought.
Determinism is the idea that there is no free will. Determinism says that everything that you and that everyone else does is predetermined and that there is pretty much nothing that you can do to change it.
Free will says that you do have a say in your own choices and, probably, so does everyone else.
Compatibilism is sort of in between free will and determinism. It’s the idea that some things are predetermined but that we have some degree of freedom.
I’m a compatibilist. I believe that many things are beyond my control but that some things are within my control, and that the same is probably true for you. A person’s stance on free will says a lot about who they are as a person, because it can give you a clue as to what kind of reasons are driving the choices that they make.
Why determinism sucks
It’s easy to fall into a deterministic mindset when it feels like things in your life or in the world are out of control. The problem that I have with hard determinism — or the very strong idea that all actions are predetermined, is that it encourages an attitude of passivity and helplessness in people.
If you think that nothing you do matters, why do anything? Why care? Why try? Also, if we have no real control over the events around us or even over our own actions, how can anyone ever be held accountable for theirs? Is it just to punish someone for doing something bad or to reward someone for doing something good if they had little to no control over the act or over the outcome?
We can’t know for sure
The thing about free will and determinism is that it’s one of those problems that doesn’t really have an answer. It also doesn’t look like we are going to be coming up with an answer that has any kind of real certainty behind it any time soon.
The free will problem as a philosophy problem is a fun thought experiment, but to solve it for real in the tangible, physical world in a way that you could depend on, you’d probably need an extremely brilliant physicist. Or, like, a team of them.
So, if you can’t answer a question like this, why would you try to answer it anyway?
I’d rather be free
My thinking on the problem is this: since I don’t know if I have freedom or not, it’s best for me to act as if I do.
Why?
Because if I feel powerless and trapped by the unending procession of time, I will be less motivated to do stuff. Also, if I am, in fact, responsible for my actions– or even if I’m not, I might face consequences for them. If I do have a choice, my actions are more meaningful, for better, or for worse.
If I really knew for sure that nothing I did really mattered, I would probably do some pretty crazy stuff. But if that meant that hard determinism was true, then wouldn’t I have done the crazy stuff anyway, regardless of whether or not I wanted to or honestly attempted to?
I really don’t know. But I’d rather live in a reality where I have a choice. And, I think, so would most people.
I have no hard evidence for the idea that I have free will. Honestly, it’s a matter of faith.
Reality is bleak either way
If I think about the problem of free will for long enough I often arrive at the conclusion that, no matter who is right, reality is terrifying.
I prefer a world in which I have at least a little bit of creative control over what kind of terrors I experience.
So, even if I don’t have free will, I’ll pretend I do.
In the age of the “woke,” killing your ego has probably jumped to the top of your to-do list.
That pesky ego, you’ve got to be rid of it!
After all, how will you reach enlightenment with that presumptuous balloon of self-satisfaction swirling around your personality? Somebody’s getting too big for their britches.
Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?
Where’s your humility?
Humility is defined as “a modest or low view of one’s own importance.”
It’s good to have humility. It’s good to know that you’re small, relative to the vastness of the universe. It’s good to know that you’re not omniscient or omnipotent. You shouldn’t be expected to know or to do everything.
The kind of humility that makes you sure you aren’t qualified to perform brain surgery, the kind that reminds you to listen as well as speak in a conversation, the kind that lets you hear what other people have to teach you; that’s the kind you want.
It’s not about thinking less of yourself, right?
It’s about thinking of yourself less.
Worry about others. Be grateful for what you have. Being humble is always a wise choice, right?
How could any of this be bad advice?
It seems like the world is always encouraging us to cut ourselves down to size, but in my humble opinion, being humble isn’t always the best policy.
I’m here to introduce a new concept:
Toxic Humility
Do you sing in the shower?
I do.
Guess what: I don’t sound like Celine Dion. And I’m guessing you probably don’t either. Does that mean it’s not okay for me to enjoy the sound of my own voice, or for you to enjoy yours?
What if you look down at your body in the shower?
What if you think for a moment, *gasp*
“I’m attractive”?
That would be wrong, wouldn’t it? Self-obsession, vanity, conceit, ego.
Oh no, now you’re appreciating your new bathroom tile! Materialism! Your list of sins against your humble higher self is getting longer and longer, and you haven’t even had breakfast yet.
You might visualize Gandhi or Mother Teresa hovering above you in a cloud of ether, shaking their head and saying,
“tsk tsk.”
This is so not spiritual.
Why do you need to spend so much time humbling yourself, anyway?
After all, you probably weren’t even that great, to begin with.
There’s always going to be someone faster, stronger, smarter, or prettier than you. Everything you’re good at– there’s somebody who can do it better.
Also, the culture and economy that surrounds you is basically a giant conspiracy to tell you that you suck.
You’re not as strong as that athlete, but take these supplements and hire this trainer you might get close. You’re not as pretty as that model, but if you buy these clothes and wear this makeup, you might get close. You won’t ever be a famous millionaire, but you can read about famous millionaires and dream about what it would be like to live their lives.
The more you hate yourself, the easier it is to sell you things.
Maybe that’s why most of us hate ourselves, quite a bit of the time, more than we admit, to ourselves or to others.
We don’t want people to know we hate ourselves, but it’s leaking out anyway.
Self-deprecating humor is becoming popular these days. Popular to the point where joking about being suicidally depressed has become almost the norm. It’s all over the internet. We’ve all seen the memes– and we’ve all read the writing on the wall.
It’s just not cool to think you’re cool anymore.
…Except, you are, aren’t you? At least sometimes.
You were pretty cool when you helped your friend move. That was a lot of boxes you carried. You were rad when you learned that new oboe song. Remember when you couldn’t even play a scale?
That time you bought a sandwich for a homeless lady? I mean, you’re not Jesus or anything, but isn’t it ok to be proud of that?
How about when you graduated from college? Pretty groovy. The day you got that promotion? Weren’t you the friggin cat’s pajamas then?
Do you humble yourself to avoid making others uncomfortable?
If you’re making it obvious that you’re great, other people might not feel as great about themselves. Jealousy is frustration with something that you yourself lack, and others seeing you with what they wish they had won’t always make them friendly.
You might remember this from grade school.
You’re not smart, you’re a “know-it-all,” and you’re not well-behaved, you’re “teacher’s pet.” Maybe not everyone needs to know that you got an A on your spelling quiz. Don’t you want to have somebody to eat lunch with?
It’s natural to want to reign it in a bit. You wouldn’t want to make others uncomfortable. It’s a good instinct. Nobody likes the guy who only talks about how awesome he is.
Of course, you don’t want to be that douchebag– but it’s also possible to swing too far to the opposite end of the arrogance spectrum.
Sometimes we don’t want to be exceptional because we want people to like us. If we are good at things, or if we’ve done something good, or if there’s something inherently good about us, that makes us different, and this could be threatening to others.
Because what makes us exceptional also makes us different, we might end up destroying the best things about ourselves to satisfy our impulse to conform.
If you’ve threatened others in the past by being extraordinary, you might have some idea of what I’m talking about. You might have let this hold you back from trying things, or doing things, or being things.
You might have developed a bad habit–choosing the comfort of the people around you over your own freedom to be authentic and free.
Always putting other people first and neglecting your own needs doesn’t help you or them. It’s also just as egotistical as always putting your own needs first.
Not only are you selling yourself short when it comes to the things that matter to you, but you might even be allowing yourself to harbor resentment against others for something you’re doing.
This isn’t to say that there aren’t people who will take advantage of the space that you free up by keeping yourself small — but anything negative you feel towards them will only hurt you, and will undeniably be caused, if indirectly, by you.
Ironically, the person that you’ll turn into by trying to please others is probably not the person you thought they would like in the first place. Nobody likes a sychophant- they’re just as bad as the Chad who can’t stop patting himself on the back.
Come to think of it, these two archetypes really are peas in a pod, aren’t they?
There will always be the kind of person who thinks so highly of themselves that they believe they deserve everything, and there will always be the kind of person who thinks so lowly of themselves that they believe they have to give everything to the person who thinks highly of themselves.
From the outside, each of these characters might look like a hero, or a villain, at times. A martyr, a traitor, call them what you want; the truth is– they’re both doomed to suffer in the roles they’re playing.
You don’t want to be either of these people.
It’s true that you’re not above anybody. But you’re not below anybody, either.
It’s okay to try hard, it’s okay to be good at things, and it’s okay to be happy when you succeed. It’s okay to take pride in your skills and talents. It’s okay to think you’re smart. It’s okay to think you’re pretty. It’s okay to like yourself.
This isn’t an excuse to be greedy, to brag, or to otherwise be a jerk.
This is permission to let yourself be awesome; without any anxiety about how that might make others feel. If you’re making other people feel bad by being the best version of yourself, then they are the ones with the problem, not you.
Don’t shrink for them.
Take up space.
Originally published on medium.com on September 11th, 2019.
The hedgehog’s dilemma, also called the porcupine’s dilemma, is a metaphor used to illustrate the more difficult aspects of human intimacy. Arthur Schopenhauer and Sigmund Freud both used this dilemma to describe how individuals relate to society and to each other.
The dilemma asks us to imagine a group of spiky mammals, who are trying to move more closely together in order to share body heat on a cold day. However, the spikiness of these creatures presents a problem. The closer they get to each other, the more they get hurt.
Since the critters are unable to cuddle without sticking each other with their spines, they aren’t able to achieve the close, symbiotic relationship that they are all aiming for.
“In the same way,” wrote Schopenhauer,
“the need of society drives the human porcupines together, only to be mutually repelled by the many prickly and disagreeable qualities of their nature.”
The main idea that this story hopes to communicate is a great irony of the human experience: we can’t have relationships, or indeed, even interact with each other, without risking harming each other.
Anyone who has ever experienced a bad breakup, a family fight or the end of a friendship can attest to the risks we take when we get close to each other. Really, the same is true for anyone who has ever met a rude stranger, cleaned up someone else’s mess, or been or cut off in traffic.
The potential negative consequence of this situation (besides the obvious pain that we can cause each other), is the fact that this may cause us to become overly cautious.
Our fear of mutual harm alienates us from each other and weakens our relationships. Since our hearts have been hurt, we build walls around them in order to protect ourselves.
This problem has never been more relevant than today when our technology seems to be enveloping us in individual, solipsistic wombs.
You can press a button on your phone, and your groceries will be delivered to your doorstep. Really, if you had enough money, you could go basically your whole life without ever having to leave your house. In Japan, there’s even a word for a person who lives like that: hikikomori.
The fact that we can be social through our media doesn’t exactly incentivize us to participate in what one Reddit forum calls “a free-to-play MMORPG with 7 billion+ active players,” or Outside, also known as the real world.
You certainly don’t need to go anywhere to socially interact with people– it’s just a click away. It’s too easy to become disconnected in this day and age, be it physically or emotionally.
It’s safer in our private bubbles, comfortable behind our manufactured images of ourselves and our two-dimensional perceptions of others. It’s neater and clener– anyway, who wants to deal with all that messiness?
That’s what humanity is– messy. It’s not edited for political correctness, smoothed by a filter, cropped into a square, or optimized to appeal to a target audience.
When we get close to people in the real world, we aren’t just seeing the highlight reel. Or at least, in my opinion, we shouldn’t be. If we never let the people we’re close to see us for who we really are, are our relationships even meaningful?
It’s becoming harder to want to be seen, warts and all. I think we’re starting to forget what warts look like.
I understand why it’s tempting to retreat into the relative safety of shallower interactions.
It’s just so much easier to see the Facebook version of your college roommate, smiling in photos with his husband and kids, than to hear about his sister’s cancer or the medication he started taking for his depression.
You don’t really want to argue about the merits of capitalism with your out-of-work, out-of-touch uncle or hear about the alcoholism your ex-girlfriend’s new fiancé. Your Instagram doesn’t have to include details about your childhood or your relationship with your parents. The Twitter user agreement doesn’t ask us to be honest with others or ourselves.
Even outside, when people ask us how we are, we say “fine.”
We might say “good,” or “great,” or “okay.” It’s rare that we say anything like: “I’m overcome with bliss,” “I’m overwhelmed by grief,” “I feel awkward in this situation,” or even “I’m having a bad day” or “my butt really itches in these pants.”
Those things are too prickly.
Why not leave these intimate details at arm’s length, and avoid getting poked? Why not mind your own business, and leave well enough alone?
Because raw, authentic human connection is a huge part of what makes life worth living. If you ask that girl out, she might break up with you, but if you don’t, you’ll never travel the world together.
Because we can’t ever have trust without placing our faith in people. If you confide in a friend, they might judge you, but if you don’t, they’ll never understand what you’re going through.
Because no one can ever really know you, or appreciate you, for who you are, if the only version of you they ever get it one that you’ve created to make others feel comfortable. Because joy doesn’t mean anything without the knowledge of pain.
Take the risk.
People aren’t always soft; sometimes they are sharp as hell, and sometimes they’re going to hurt. Still, screw the spines. It’s cold out there, and I would rather be warm.
Wouldn’t you?
Originally published on medium.com on February 3rd, 2020.
The mythical hero and founder king of Athens, Theseus, sailed into battle on a famous ship. Legend has it that the ship, displayed in a museum, began to rot and gradually had its pieces replaced.
The Ship of Theseus is a philosophical thought experiment that can help us to understand the metaphysics of identity. The basic question that it raises is if an object which has had all of its fundamental components replaced is still the same object.
With all of its original pieces replaced, is the Ship of Theseus still fundamentally the same ship?
This idea has interesting and uncomfortable implications when applied to our theories about the human mind and body.
For example: would you dare to step into a Star Trektransporter? If your atoms were disassembled by a tractor beam, would it be the same person reassembled on the other side? Could you tell the difference? Does it matter?
In an age when science fiction seems to be transforming into science fact at an alarming rate, we can’t help but begin to wonder about things like the continuity of consciousness.
Futurists imagine a world where human beings might attain a state approaching functional immortality through the use of technology. Some theorize about a technological singularity, in which the human race fuses with and becomes indistinguishable from our technology.
One day, will we be able to upload our own consciousness into clones of ourselves, or artificial bodies with a much later expiration date than our flimsy human ones? If we were able to do something like this, would we still be human? Would still be ourselves? Does this idea of ourselves even hold water?
These ideas are explored in many places in modern media, particularly in works of science fiction.
In the 2015 film Advantageous, a mother considers transferring her mind into a younger body in order to serve as the spokesperson for a corporation offering this service.
In L. Frank Baum’s turn-of-the-century novel The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the Tin Woodsman’s origin story remembers him as a human who had all of his limbs gradually replaced with tin. The question of whether he is still the same man, Nick Chopper, is a running joke throughout the story.
The Tin Man eventually meets another version of himself, created from his discarded flesh. Which one is the real Nick Chopper?
In the 1999 film Bicentennial Man, we watch a robot slowly transition towards humanity through the slow replacement of his parts, much like the Ship of Theseus. Robin William’s leading character, Andrew and the Tin Man share a similar problem: if they only had a brain!
Stories like these hint at the idea that the brain– particularly the prefrontal cortex– might be part of what makes us human.
There are many proposed solutions to the Ship of Theseus problem, and how we decide to answer this question says lot about how we see ourselves, our lives, and our future.
Here are a few possible answers:
No identity over time
This theory suggests that there is no continuous “ship” which exists across time, but rather that the ship in each instant is a separate ship, an event existing only for that moment. Do you see yourself this way, a different being from moment to moment?
Continual identity over time via final cause
The Ship of Theseus had a purpose, after all; transporting the hero into battle. This purpose is the ship’s final cause.
Aristotle had the idea that there were four causes or reasons for a thing to be:
The formal cause is the design of the thing, like the ship’s shape, or the way the bones of your skeleton hang together.
The material cause is the type of matter the thing is made of, like the ship’s wood, or the cells of your body.
The efficient or moving cause is the agent that changes the thing, like the passage of time rotting the ship’s wood, or the experiences of your life, shaping your character.
The final cause is the intended purpose of a thing or the mystical possibility of an oak tree that lurks inside of an acorn. This final cause is the essence and identity of the ship, its reason for existing in the first place.
You might relate the final cause of the ship to the meaning of your own life, your telos, your ultimate aim. This way of solving the problem suggests that the ship is the same ship, as a function of its intended purpose.
Gradual loss of identity
This theory suggests that perhaps the ship was once the same ship, but stopped being that ship as it began to decompose.
If our identity is a function of our purpose, what happens when that purpose is unclear? Are we still ourselves if we aren’t serving the same purpose that we once were? If the parts of ourselves which once made us ourselves are gradually replaced, have we lost the essence of who we are?
There is no ship
Conceptualism argues that the ship is just a concept we invented. The new ship and the old ship are separate concepts. They must not be the same ships, then. Otherwise, how would we compare these ideas?
You can think about yourself this way, too. One could similarly argue that you are just a concept that you invented. There is no “you” only your ideas about who and what “you” are.
So, what is the ship?
Nobody actually knows.
How do you choose to view your identity?
Are you a fleeting part of the “now,” existing only within this moment until you become something else in the next moment?
Are you a function of your purpose, an instrument of the reason why you exist or the ideas by which you choose to live?
Are you a gradually degrading being, becoming less and less you as you age and your concept of yourself becomes fuzzier?
Do you have an identity at all? Do any of us? Are we all “special, unique snowflakes” or “all part of the same compost heap?”
What are you?
We’re moving into a future where our ideas about our identity and our humanness are becoming more important. These questions are no longer just abstract food for thought to ponder in the moments when we feel ideologically confused.
The time is coming when we’ll have to make tangible, materialistic ethical decisions related to the abstract concepts of our selves, our identity, and our humanness. We’ll have to decide which choices we’ll make when it comes to the ethics of our technology and our conscious evolution as a species.
What will the future of humanity look like based on those choices?
Regardless of what happens with clones, cyborgs, AI, data clouds, or anything in the science-future of the world, we also have to consider our perspective on this when we make decisions in our daily lives.
Our beliefs and our behavior are closely tied to our identities. Our ideas about who, what, and why we are influencing how we live our lives and how we will feel about the choices we make.
Who are you?
Why are you?
What makes you, you?
Think about it.
Originally published on medium.com on October 29th, 2019.
Why is it so easy sometimes, and so difficult other times?
There are lots of reasons for this, but sometimes it helps to simplify things a bit. When we make the decision to create something wholly for our own satisfaction and benefit, it can be a great cure for creative block, mostly just because it allows us to be ourselves with a little bit more comfort and ease.
Shaking off the fears of failure and judgment
When you make a piece of art just for yourself, the pressure to impress, please, or touch others is off. You don’t have to worry about who will like it, how it will be received, whether or not you can sell it, or if anyone will truly understand what you were trying to say. Taking this kind of pressure off of ourselves gives us more freedom to express ourselves honestly.
Be honest — when you put pen to paper (or whatever your equivalent is) don’t you hesitate sometimes, thinking about who will read what you’re about to write? I hate to think of the many great ideas that have been lost to the world because of an artist’s brief moment of doubt.
Artists are often perfectionists, and it’s easy to want to toss out a whole idea because it’s not up to our own standards, or to the standards by which we believe we will be judged. Throwing away the measuring stick is one of the best ways to encourage growth.
It’s a shame for anyone to have to be boxed in by the expectations of others, or discouraged by fear and the possibility of failure or embarrassment. We have to be free to create dangerously without limits. The best, most unique ideas come from thinking outside of the box, and it’s easy to be comfortable doing that when the potential consequences are less of an issue.
Art is about communication…
When we make a piece of art and show it to someone else, we are allowing that person to see the world from our point of view for a brief moment. One of the reasons why art is so necessary is that it helps us to feel less alone in a world that is sometimes scary and confusing.
Art is a means of communication that is often superior in many ways to more direct ones, despite often being far more ambiguous. When we make art, we can’t guarantee that others will understand what we are trying to say or feel the way we felt. Still, we’ve all experienced it– when you do feel that connection to another person’s art, it’s pretty hard to ignore.
…not just with others, but also with yourself
While art can be a great tool to express to others what you’re thinking and feeling, it’s often just as important, if not more so, to express your thoughts and feelings to yourself. Our minds are complicated, and sometimes it’s hard to decipher what we truly think and feel.
Art can be a powerful tool for introspection and self-reflection because it allows us to see the things that we are hiding from ourselves. Like our dreams, art tends to reveal recurring themes from our subconscious mind, which can otherwise be difficult to access with our conscious efforts.
Sometimes we don’t truly understand our own thoughts, feelings, hopes, fears, or motivations until we turn our focus inward to try and understand ourselves better. While others can enjoy and connect to your art, it’s important that we also take this inward step. If you aren’t looking inward first, how can you be confident in what you’re expressing outwardly?
Understanding our own subconscious drives is a powerful tool for taking ownership of our conscious actions. This is important for happiness because life becomes more meaningful the more our actions line up with our true beliefs. We can’t change our own thoughts or behaviors until we understand why we are thinking and behaving the way that we do.
Making art doesn’t just make you a better artist, it makes you a better person.
Learning to love the process
When I create art for myself, it reminds me that the true joy in art is in the creation of it, not in the final results. This is true about most things in life– you’ll be happier if you focus on the journey instead of the destination.
When you create just for the sake of creating, you remember that creating itself is the point. Creation is not just a means to an end but, also an end in itself. This is a very easy thing to forget.
Loving the process also improves our process. Often we can get hung up on a false dichotomy: quality vs quantity. The truth is that we can’t help but get better at the things we do frequently, and that quantity will eventually lead to quality, as long as we persevere. For every hundred scribbles we make on our own time, maybe we’ll find one that we want to share with the rest of the world– if we’re lucky. This might seem daunting, but really, it’s a good thing.
When we give our full attention and a healthy mindset to our practice, it becomes deliberate, helping us learn, improve, and dependably moving us closer to our goals. This kind of practice might not make us perfect, but it will make us just a little bit better than we were yesterday. The process is where we learn where our strengths and weaknesses are, what we like and dislike doing, and what feels meaningful to us.
No act of creation is ever a waste of time.
Brain benefits
In addition to getting your creative juices flowing, making art (even if it’s just for you) has a lot of other practical benefits.
Creating art forges new neural pathways in the brain, allowing us to think more creatively at a tangible, physical level. This helps us to respond to the world in a way that is more intelligent and integrative, building connections between our logic, emotions, and imagination. Making art is also a proven method for treating substance abuse, and can help us heal from trauma.
It doesn’t even take a very big time investment to start seeing benefits. A 2016 study showed that just 45 minutes of making art is enough to improve your feelings of self-confidence. But you don’t need a study to tell you that– you’ve probably experienced it.
All of this in less than an hour.
All of this without rules, deadlines, or criticism.
All of this without worrying about likes, claps, or upvotes.
All of this from the safety and comfort of your own home.
You don’t even have to put pants on!
Originally published on medium.com on December 19th, 2019.
Esoteric Epistemology 