Here’s a bit of a head trip: There are schools of thought that argue that we don’t really have free will but rather our consciousness exists under the illusion of free will. So, for example, the grinding gears of our subconscious decide that it would be a good thing to ask out Jenny Miller next door and that decision rises up to our conscious state and we think we made the decision. But the decision was really just the culmination of a series of unconscious processes. However, by that argument, could we not then have many consciousness in our head, each thinking they run the show? We think that one “I” lives in our head but could there not be many? A dozen people in there, each thinking they were the one who decided to take a sip of coffee or go skydiving?

This might tie into the whole multiple personality diagnosis.

A fairly recurring argument you see in western literature philosophy of the past… oh, I don’t know, 2000 years, is the idea that humans are progressing towards something. Basically, as we exist in this world, we learn more and more and get better and better at what we are doing.

Of course, a lot of non-Western philosopher types argue the opposite. They would say progress is a chimera.

I was thinking a bit about this today. If you look at music, it is hard to argue that we’ve really progressed. Certainly music has changed over time, but I don’t think anyone can really argue that the Beatles are somehow superior to Bach. The same might be said about writing. Is Hemingway superior to the Greek poets? I doubt anyone would seriously make that case.

Of course, those are the arts, and the arts are notoriously subjective. What about science? Clearly we have been making great leaps in our understanding of the world around us — chemistry, biology, physics and even more ethereal “sciences” like psychology etc. But does that count as progress? Is the core human experience vastly improved because we can put a man on the moon or power cars with gasoline? I’m not sure. Certainly I get that things are more comfortable with bug spray than without, but does that really alter our fundamental emotional state? Are we happier because of bug spray? Again, I’m not sure.

What about knowledge for knowledge’s sake? I like quantum physics, but I’m not sure the statement “the world is made up of subatomic particles such as protons, neutrons and quarks” is any more informative than the statement “the world is made up of stuff.”

There’s one area where it would seem that we could without doubt say we’ve advanced: medicine. Our lifespans are increasing and, despite everything you hear about obesity and whatnot, we are basically healthier. We’re less blind, less deaf, less prone to childhood diseases etc.

And I’m a bit torn here. Because I do agree with this point about medicine. Having said that, is living into our 90s really an improvement? Has medicine, in its all-out war with illness and death, changed those entities into something more fearsome than they really should be?

It comes down to this question again: are we living “better” lives than the average man 10,000 years ago? It’s impossible to answer, of course, because we don’t have a resident from that era around to voice his or her opinion. And it’s very hard to look at the total experience of lifetime; usually we’re very aware of how we’re feeling right now, less aware of how we were feeling five years ago.

You might be familiar with Ray Kurzweil’s theory of “The Singularity” — the idea that mankind’s progress will become faster and faster in such a way that any predictable sense of progress will be lost. One day we’ll cure cancer, the next we’ll be sucking power out of the sun, three minutes later we’ll have evolved to leave our corporal bodies behind and exist as multidimensional Spirit creatures.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what this ever increasing level progress and change could do to people’s careers. If you went back back 100 years and took up a career as a horse shoe maker, you’d have a pretty stable occupation. At some point, you’d see cars coming, but you have 10, 20 years before your service was really made obsolete. In the near future, I don’t think you’ll have that forewarning. You could be a computer programmer and master the object-oriented programming language Z+, and overnight find the language made obsolete. You could be a recording engineer and master the techniques for the current music fad, electro-reggae-rap, only to find the fad disappear within the space of a few months. The massive onslaught and distribution of information and media could lead to people getting bored of said information and media much faster, leaving producers of such information and media out of work.

“Straw Dogs” gets into this.

One of the pioneers of robotics is written: ‘In the next century inexpensive but capable robots will displace human labor so broadly that the average workday would have to plummet to practically zero to keep everyone employed.’

Hans Moravec’s vision of the future may be closer than we think. New technologies are rapidly displacing human labor. The ‘underclass’ of permanently unemployed is partly the result of poor education and misguided economic policies. Yet it is time that increasing numbers are becoming economically redundant. It is no longer unthinkable that within a few generations the majority of the population will have little or no role in the production process.

So, the theory here is that the production of useful “stuff” — be it food, products and (in my view at least) intangibles like music, fiction etc. will be done by robots and computers. Does that mean people do nothing? “Straw Dogs” continues…

An economy whose core tasks are done by machines will value human labor only insofar as it cannot be replaced. Moravec writes: ‘Many trends in industrialized societies lead to a future were humans are supported by machines, as our ancestors were by wildlife.’ That, according to Jeremy Rifkin, does not mean mass unemployment. Rather we are approaching a time when, in Moravec’s words, ‘ almost all humans work to amuse other humans’.

You better start working on getting motherfucking amusing!

As I’ve reiterated endlessly on this blog and in other writings, several years ago I developed a severe case a repetitive strain in my forearms which was then topped off with an overnight onset of a mysterious malady consisting of unbalance and extreme fatigue. As a result, I had to largely stop working, leave Los Angeles and the friends and life I had there, and move in with my dad in San Diego.

But, about a year into my stay in San Diego I became convinced that I had figured out that my dizziness was due to a disorder of the vestibular system. Despite the fact that no doctors agreed with me, the theory made a lot of sense. I eventually met with a doctor who specialized in that system and he confirmed my hypothesis. This actually gave me a great sense of victory; using only my wits and Internet research, I had figured out the cause of an ailment that had beguiled several specialists and doctors I’d seen.

But the more I thought about it, the more I became rather dismayed. In truth, vestibular malfunction was the obvious culprit. It wasn’t that I was so smart, it was that these doctors were that dumb. Now, I’d always been someone who — within reason — respected and even deferred to authority figures like doctors. But as I looked around, I could see that authority figures were failing left and right. This was right around the economic recession of 2008: why had so few economists foreseen it coming? This was also when many Catholic priests were finally being punished for pedophilia — if that’s not an example of mendacious and evil abuse of authority then I don’t know what is. (Currently, we’re watching the implosion of Lance Armstrong, which further drives home the point that our heroes are shams.)

The lesson seemed to be: you can’t trust the experts, you have to do it yourself. Intrigued by what I’d learned about the vestibular system, I dove into the topic of neuroscience. That led me to genetics and physics and all sorts of interesting sciences. Topics that once seemed arcane and impossible to understand became digestible and appealing. I would say science became the second great love of my life, after music. I’ve even questioned whether, on some level, it was all worth it — while I’d had to leave Los Angeles, the location of what I would call the happiest years of my life, I had gained quite a lot in knowledge, in understanding of the universe. And by realizing that so many authority figures are basically retards, I gained a certain sense of self autonomy and freedom.

But, I can’t deny that there’s something unfulfilling about knowledge. You can’t deny that most science presumes that the universe is rather meaningless. In Los Angeles, I had friends, girlfriends, culture* etc. and, while I see those things now as somewhat unreal, you can’t deny their pleasures.

*This is not to say that San Diego doesn’t have culture, just that I’ve lost interest in culture in general.

I’m reading an interesting book now called “Straw Dogs” by a rather dour philosopher, John Gray. He confronts this conundrum — that truth doesn’t lead to happiness — head on. First he summarizes, then rejects, the views of Socrates.

[Socrates says that]… When humans live the unexamined life they run after illusions. They spend their lives searching for pleasure or fleeing pain, both of which are bound to pass away. True fulfillment lies in changeless things. An examined life is best because it leads us into eternity.

We need not doubt the reality of truth to reject this Socratic faith. Human knowledge is one thing, human well-being another. There is no predetermined harmony between the two. The examined life may not be worth living.

From there, Gray makes a point I’ve seen made by others. That science, rather than being a rejection of religion, evolved out of religion. And whereas we used to look to religion as a source of eternity, truth and freedom, we now look to science. But, Gray argues, science does not offer that.

Modern humanism is the faith that through science humankind can know the truth — and so be free. But if Darwin’s theory of natural selection is true this is impossible. The human mind serves evolutionary success, not truth. To think otherwise is to resurrect the pre-Darwinian error that humans are different from all other animals.

Again, a point I’ve seen made before, but an interesting one: “survival of the fittest” does not mean “survival of those who best know the truth.” In fact, it might mean the exact opposite.

Darwinian theory tells us that an interest in truth is not needed for survival or reproduction. More often it is a disadvantage… Among humans the best deceivers are those who deceive themselves: ‘we deceive ourselves in order to deceive others better’, says Wright*. A lover who promises eternal fidelity is more likely to be believed if he believes his promise himself; he is no more likely to keep the promise. In a competition for mates, a well-developed capacity for self-deception is an advantage**. The same is true in politics, and many other contexts.

*This brings to mind one of the great quotes from Seinfeld’s George Costanza. “Remember Jerry… it’s not a lie if you believe it.”
** I recall a line to this effect from Gene Simmons’s autobiography (addressing his phenomenal success with women), “I’m probably one of the few people who thinks he’s better looking than he actually is.”

Gray continues…

If this is so, the view that clusters of false beliefs — inferior memes — will tend to be winnowed out by natural selection must be mistaken. Truth has no systematic evolutionary advantage over error. [My italics.] Quite to the contrary, evolution will ‘select for a degree of self-deception, rendering some facts and motives unconscious so as not to betray — by the subtle signs of self-knowledge — the deception being practiced’. As Herbert points out, evolution favors useful error: ‘the conventional view that natural selection favors nervous systems which produce ever more accurate images of the world must be a very naïve view of mental evolution’.

The take-away being that the Socratic notion that the truth will set you free is wrong. Knowledge does not equal happiness, and the unexamined life may well be worth living, and in fact, be preferable.

I’m not quite sure I buy all of this, but it’s certainly food for thought.