The Is-Ought Gap

Some time ago, I wrote a series on morality. My approach was to go through a bunch of different views people have on morality, and give my opinions on each one, pointing out contradictions where I saw them, and picking out my favorites. Now, we’ll revisit the topic from a perspective outside the narratives, which in philosophical terms is called meta-ethics. We’ll be less concerned with which ideas are better than which, and focus on descriptions of moral behavior and ideas, and objective frameworks from which to think about it. To kick things off, we’ll talk about the is-ought gap.

The is-ought gap came from an observation by the philosopher David Hume, who noticed that every time a moral philosopher tried argue for a moral system, they would make a bunch of is-statements about the world, and somewhere along the line take a magical leap to ought-statements. For instance, “The result of evolution by natural selection is to pass on genetic information to the next generation. Therefore, we ought to live in the way that maximizes the chance of our genetic information surviving into the future.” Most of us are not satisfied with this conclusion. What about being kind to strangers? What about lifting people on the other side of the world out of poverty? That’s not the point, though. The problem is that the argument sets up an is-statement, which seems to be leading somewhere, but then jumps to an ought-statement, which does not automatically follow from it.

Another example is the nature of conscious experience. “It is the case that we all have some conscious experiences we would rather have than others. For example, most of us want to avoid pain if there’s no reward from it. Therefore, we ought to take actions that reduce pain in ourselves and others, and to help each other reach the high points of the human experience.” Although this resonates more strongly with most of us than the previous example, it is still a non-sequitur; the premises are not sufficient to prove the conclusion.

You may wonder if maybe we just haven’t found the answer, that someone will come along with a solution and bridge the gap. In fact, many, including myself, have tried. But it is impossible, because it commits a category error. Is-statements are descriptive, whereas ought-statements are normative. Given a number of descriptive statements, you can derive more descriptive statements. Given a number of normative statements, you can derive more normative statements. However, it is impossible, using statements from just one category, to make conclusions that lie within the other. If you ever hear anyone claim to have solved the “is-ought problem,” all they have done is show they don’t understand it.

If we look at what is, we see all kinds of moral systems arising, competing, dying out, thriving above, or beneath, or to the side of others. From rule of the strongest to compassion for all to following the words of the hero or prophet or god or priesthood. It’s clear that moral systems exist, and people follow them passionately, and clearly have a way of determining what they should and should not do within their moral framework. It is also clear that what is true, or what they believe is true, plays a factor in it.

This shows us a sort-of exception to the is-ought gap; if we take some ought-statements as a given, then we have a goal. Once we have a goal, is-statements can show us how we ought to act in order to move toward that goal. This is true for goals that are finished once they are accomplished, as well as for the goals of acting in certain ways over periods of time. In this way, we can use is-statements together with ought-statements to derive more ought-statements. For instance, if we don’t want to be inside a burning building, then we ought to light a fire in the fireplace only if it is safe; and if the fire alarm goes off or the room starts to fill with smoke, we ought to leave the building. If we want to avoid the pain and consequences of a car crash, then if the training programs are good, we ought to receive driver training; if the rules of the road are safe, we ought to adhere to them; if insurance is worth more than the risk of a crash, we ought to have insurance; and all kinds of stuff like that. Given goals, facts about the world can help us know what we ought to do to move toward those goals.

We haven’t bridged the is-ought gap—there is still the implication that we want to be safe and avoid unnecessary suffering—but we have figured out how to use is-statements together with ought-statements to help us reach toward the things we value. There may be no way to prove with absolute certainty what we ought to do, and even if we could, it’s not reasonable to expect everyone to be experts on moral philosophy, but we can get by well enough if we inject a little common sense into the discussion and choose to work toward what we believe to be right. We’ll go more into that in the next entry of the Meta-Ethics series.

Significance – Large and Small Numbers

Toolbelt of Knowledge: Concepts
Algorithms
Equivalence
Emergence
Math
The Anthropic Principle
Substrate-Independence
Significance

Here’s a question: what do you get when you add one to a million? The answer: still a million.

Well, precisely speaking, it’s a million and one. But in the real world, it’s hardly ever necessary to be that precise. Let me put the question another way: what do you get when you add a drop of water to a full sink? The answer: still a full sink. Even if the amount of water in the sink to begin with is exactly a million times the amount in the drop, it does not change the fact that the full sink at the end is indistinguishable from the full sink at the beginning, and we call it and treat it as the same thing.

When adding a drop of water to a sinkfull, the drop is insignificant. But a single drop on a microscope slide  makes all the difference in the world. By itself, the drop is neither significant nor insignificant; we need context in order to say one way or the other.

This is a neat concept for science, but it leads to a troubling everyday question: when do your and my individual actions matter? Is there any real reason for me to personally recycle my plastics, or vote, or be a conscientious consumer? There will only be a significant impact if lots of people do it. One more or one less won’t make a difference.

This is the part where I should say, “Of course an individual’s contribution makes a difference.” And if enough people believe it, large numbers of people will do good things and a real difference will be made. There are times when a lie like this is the simplest, most harmless way to make good things happen, and I’m all for this message being spread. But here on A Scientist’s Fiction, we boldly face the truth head-on, not letting ourselves be distracted by wishful thinking. The question isn’t, “Why is it true that an individual’s contribution makes a difference?” The question is, “How do we argue that individuals should do the right thing, given the fact that an individual’s contribution does not make a difference?”

First, we should note that there are many times when individual actions do make a difference. Like a drop of water under a microscope, taking time out of your day to spend on another person, even a mere smile as you pass them by, can make a world of a difference for that person. That alone makes it worth it.

But even on the collective scale where individual actions don’t make a difference, there is still a reason to do the right thing. That reason is because you and I want to be good people. We want to be the kind of people who are responsible with our environment, with our economy, with our government. Even if taking your own bag to the grocery store is not going to make a dent in the world’s plastic problem, it is the kind of thing a good person does. It’s not just about plastic anymore, it’s about building habits of responsibility that help you in every aspect of your life. And if you can’t recycle, or if you aren’t sure which politician is the right one, the pressure is off. One person not being perfect isn’t the end of the world. So let’s do what we believe is right, regardless of whether that particular choice makes a difference in the grand scheme of things.

An Atheist's Best Argument For the Existence of God

When searching for truth, we often find that smart people are divided on the answers to any particular question. Truth, it turns out, is not always obvious, and finding it requires careful consideration of all reasonable possibilities. That’s why I’ve decided to start writing discussions about the best arguments against my points of view. We will start today with the existence of God.

I’ve written before about God the fictional archetype and God the principle of existence. The God I don’t believe in is God the real person, so that is what we will be talking about today.

There are many arguments in favor of God’s existence, some ancient, some modern. Very few, however, are persuasive to anyone who does not already believe God exists, and they are almost no one’s personal reason for their belief; rather, they are almost always used as rationalizations under the guise of “apologetics.” You can read some of them here if you would like.

Before we get to the argument I find most persuasive, let’s look at one often pointed to by other atheists, the argument from apparent design, also known as the Teleological Argument. I do not find it persuasive at all, and I will explain why. The best version of it goes like this:

A. Within the laws of physics, there are a number of parameters that sit on a razor’s edge. Just a small nudge upward or downward, and life could not exist.

Note: There are probably many configurations that would allow life of some kind, but they are vastly outnumbered by those that would not.

B. The probability that these parameters randomly landed on values that permit life is so low as to be nonexistent. It couldn’t have been coincidence.

C. Therefore, our universe was intentionally designed for life to exist.

The premises A and B are true. The universe is finely tuned for life to exist, and it couldn’t have been coincidence. But the conclusion that God made the universe does not follow from the premises. Just because it is a possible explanation doesn’t mean it is the true explanation. We also have to consider other possible explanations, and the more we find, the less likely God is to be the answer.

First, the laws of physics and the shape of our universe as we currently understand them suggest that there are at least four possible types of multiverses, each of which might have variations in the physical parameters. Perhaps even five or six, depending on how quantum gravity behaves in black holes and in higher dimensions. If even a single one of these exists, we have another possible explanation. If the chances of life existing in a given universe are 10 to the power of a big number, but the number of universes that exist are 10 to the power of a much bigger number, then there is no surprise that we exist. So if we allow the four most plausible types of multiverses as possible answers, then what the Teleological Argument really says is that there is a 1/5 chance of the universe being intentionally designed.

I want to pause for a moment and deconstruct a myth often heard from religious apologists: “Scientists posit multiverses as an excuse not to believe in God.” This is baseless slander. Multiverses are predicted results of physics theories—some of them quite well-established—or philosophical deliberations that are not related to the question of God. Physicists who want there to be only one universe have to add extra fluff to the theories in order to force the multiverses to go away; a practice that is scientifically sketchy. Furthermore, there are many scientists and other people who believe in the existence of both God and a multiverse.

Back to the argument, Multverses are not the only possible answers. If we’re going to consider intentional design as a possibility, we have to consider other supernatural explanations as well. For instance, the universe might have been unconsciously created by a sleeping God. Or, it might be impossible for conscious observers not to exist, so the universe was required by necessity to have parameters such that conscious observers would come to exist.

These possibilities mean that the real results of the Teleological Argument at best give intentional design a 1/7 chance of being the answer. That’s less than 15%. And it doesn’t factor in all of the billions of different kinds of gods and supernatural creatures which could have intentionally created the universe. It also runs into the problem of deduction: even if we could definitively rule out all of the possibilities we have thought of except for God, we could never rule out the possibility that there are more we have not thought of yet. This is why I do not find the Teleological Argument the least bit persuasive.

If the argument most people point to as the most persuasive is not persuasive at all, then what is? Well, there is one thing that keeps me questioning every once in a while. It is the same reason most believers really believe: a feeling that God is talking to me. Sometimes, I have intuitions that I should or should not do something. I don’t know why, I just know it is true. When I ignore it, I suffer. When I listen to it, things go well. These intuitions have a natural explanation: our senses take in much more information than we can consciously process, so our unconscious takes over and feeds our conscious minds its results in the form of feelings. There is also no reason to believe they are from any particular god over any other. Yet the feeling, when trained upon itself, feels like it is the voice of God. Others may not find this convincing, and it may not be rational, but to me, this is the most compelling argument for the existence of God.

Substrate-Independence – Abstract Truths Beyond Matter and Space-Time

Toolbelt of Knowledge: Concepts
Algorithms
Equivalence
Emergence
Math
The Anthropic Principle
Substrate-Independence
Significance

Substrate-independence is a term from the philosophy of consciousness, particularly information-based physicalism. It describes the hypothesis that consciousness does not depend on neurons and biology, but will exist anywhere the correct patterns of information exist. According to substrate-independence, the material doesn’t matter. If a computer, or an electrical circuit, or a network of switches, or any other substrate, could do the same thing our brains do, that system would be conscious. If the patterns in your brain were moved into one of these systems, which continued the evolution of the pattern, you would leave your body and go into that system. If this is true, then consciousness is independent of the substrate it rides upon.

I want to take the idea of substrate-independence and make it more general. If we assume consciousness is identified with something to do with information, and works on any substrate that can perpetuate that information, then why not say all information is substrate-independent? If some piece of information is stored as electrical signals on a hard drive, or in a text in a book, or a line of red and white stones, it’s the same information. The substrate doesn’t matter; it’s substrate-independent.

We can take this further, to something even more abstract: scientific models. These models are ideas: organizations or systems that are developed to describe real phenomena. You probably have an intuition for what these are, but here are some examples for clarity: the germ theory of disease, Newtonian gravity, the protoplanetary disk theory of solar system formation, information theory, the canonical ensemble of statistics, and so on.

I should note that it might not be correct to call theories substrate-independent. However, if there is a better term for what I want to describe, I don’t know it. If I come across it, this post will get an update or a revisit. For now, we’ll just go with it.

Note: I have since learned that the general term is "universality." When I get around to it, I will edit or rewrite this post with that term.

For a scientific theory to be substrate-independent, it must be generalizable. This means not all scientific theories are substrate-independent. For instance, there is nothing special about the periodic table of the elements. In another universe, it could be different. A large number of parameters could be changed, such as the charge of an electron or the range of the strong nuclear force, each of which would completely change the periodic table. The periodic table depends on a lot of things being as they are. This is true for all classifications, as far as I can tell, since they all depend on what they are describing.

But theories that describe abstract and generalizable systems are substrate-independent. Information is substrate-independent; it works on anything, in any universe. Evolution by variation and natural selection is substrate-independent. Any system that reproduces itself with changes and subject to selection pressures will follow Darwinian evolution. Life on Earth, instances in a computer program, cultural fads and values, all of these things evolve by variation and natural selection. Darwinian evolution is substrate-independent.

What about math? Addition and subtraction describe any amount of any type of thing where more are added or some are taken away. Circles describe everything whose edge is roughly the same distance from its center at all points. However, I don’t think it makes sense to say math is substrate-independent. Math is meant to describe ideas, which are not material things. Although math can be applied to physical things, it is not particularly designed to do so, and asking whether it is substrate-independent seems like asking whether a rock is too blue for you to lift it. It might make sense if we construe the definitions in just the right ways, but it’s easier to say it doesn’t apply. However, math and substrate-independent theories both apply in every possible universe, meaning they are both families of physically-transcendent truths. So I suppose whether we call math substrate-independent or not depends on personal preference.

If something is substrate-independent, it means it works no matter what material it describes or runs on, nor what universe it exists within. In fact, some substrate independent models may apply to universes themselves. Perhaps consciousness can run on computers, and perhaps it can run in other universes with alternative physics that would render everything inside them unfamiliar to us. It is calming and satisfying to know that some things are true no matter where or when, or even outside of space and time.

Properly Trained Common Sense

Toolbelt of Knowledge: Practices
Skepticism
Listening
Deconstruction
Rationality
Mindfulness
Steel Manning
Common Sense

On this blog, we have not treated common sense too kindly. “Common sense” is what we use to mean “you just know,” without having to go through all of the tedium of proving something. In general, it is a catch-all term for mental shortcuts that get us to answers quickly without getting bogged down in confusion. Because of this, common sense can be incredibly idiotic. However, there are also times when it is wise and practical. Today, we’re going to look at how to use common sense well, so that you come to conclusions that have high probabilities of being correct and useful.

The first type of common sense is a reality check. After you have gone through a process of deduction and calculation, does the answer you get make sense? For instance, suppose you are doing a homework problem to calculate the speed of sound, and the answer you get is 30 miles per hour. Do you turn it in? You may not know what the real answer is, but you do know you don’t hear a sonic boom every time a car speeds up nearby! Common sense says you better check your calculations.

Not considering the consequences of the choices we make or put off making can be considered a breach of common sense. If you’re making rice and you fill the pot with grains, it will overflow as it absorbs the water. If you have a pain in your wisdom tooth, waiting to see if it goes away on its own is not worth the risk that it’s infected. When you vote for politicians and leaders, you might want to avoid the ones who like to beat people down. Actions and consequences. Common sense.

Our next use of common sense is to accept true statements that are extremely difficult or impossible to prove. There is a form of argument called the syllogism, which is two premises and a conclusion. An example would be, “All men are human, Frederick Douglass was a man, therefore Frederick Douglass was human.” In the abstract, the syllogism looks like this:

A: If B, then C.
B: B.
C: Therefore, C.

It is obvious that if someone accepts both A and B, they must conclude C to be true as well.

But think about the statement in bold. It is a premise in itself, a hidden premise of the argument. So let’s bring it out of its hiding place, and add it to the syllogism as a premise Z.

Z: If A and B, then C.
A: If B, then C.
B: B.
C. Therefore, C.

There we go. Now we know the whole truth: if someone accepts A, B, and the hidden premise Z, they must conclude C to be true as well.

Oh no! In bringing out the hidden premise to prove the syllogism, we have discovered yet another premise! X: If Z, A, and B, then C. It becomes clear that there is a pattern: for every hidden premise we find, there is yet another premise hidden behind it. Rather than two premises and a conclusion, the syllogism in its true form has an infinite number of premises!

This is an interesting puzzle for the philosophy of logic. But for our everyday problem solving, the two-premise syllogism is good enough, and it is fine to act as if it is absolutely proven to be true. This is our next use of common sense: to take the improvable foundations of logic as if they are proven to be true.

Even when an argument is logically sound, common sense can sometimes veto one or more of its premises. For instance, we can go to the classic example of a faulty syllogism, “All men have beards. Socrates was a man. Therefore, Socrates had a beard.” Our common sense says wait a minute, only some men have beards, not all of them! Despite the argument being formally valid, the first premise is false, meaning the conclusion is invalid, and we can’t know if Socrates had a beard without more information.

However, we must remember, just because something is common sense doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true. At first glance, quantum physics seems to go against common sense, with photons and electrons behaving sometimes as particles and sometimes as waves, and seeming to teleport from place to place. But there is an enormous amount of theoretical and experimental evidence pointing to quantum physics being true, and we have a large amount of technology, such as the laser, that would not function otherwise. Therefore, despite quantum physics going against common sense, we have every reason to believe it is true.

This illustrates the problem with common sense: sometimes it is wrong. If we hear an idea that goes against our common sense, it is important to hear the arguments supporting it, and to give those arguments a good mull over, with the attitude that we might allow ourselves to be convinced to let go of our common sense belief.

Perhaps the worst danger of invoking common sense is to avoid looking at a question in its full complexity, and make out anyone who disagrees with us as fools. We all know of people who have defended their religious or political beliefs by saying, “it’s common sense,” brushing us off, and sending the message that because we don’t agree with their “common sense” view, our thoughts on the matter aren’t worth hearing. That’s not common sense, it’s stubbornness, and we must keep ourselves accountable not to fall into that kind of behavior.

Like rationality, common sense is not something we automatically have. In order not to cause more problems than it solves, common sense must be trained, and a great way to do that is to practice all of the other skills in the Toolbelt of Knowledge.

Why I Write about Things I Don't Believe

Toolbelt of Knowledge: Practices
Skepticism
Listening
Deconstruction
Rationality
Mindfulness
Steel Manning
Common Sense

On this blog, I write about all kinds of philosophical ideas. One of the major goals is to help me think about all of these interesting topics, and to figure out what I believe. But I also write about things I don’t believe, like Dualism, Idealism, and the creation solutions to the fine-tuning problem. Why do I do this? There are a few reasons. Firstly, taking the time to think through ideas I don’t believe helps me understand the ideas I do believe. Secondly, when I write fantasy, I want my alternative philosophy to be coherent. And thirdly, thinking about all kinds of philosophical ideas is fun, whether I think they correspond to the real world or not.

We will begin by discussing something called the Steel Man technique. A good competitor always wants their opponent to be at their best, because only then can the competition truly reveal who is stronger, faster, more cunning, or whatever. Although I don’t like to think of intellectual discussions as competitions, the same principle applies: the only way to know whose ideas are truer is if the very best arguments are made for all sides.

image attribution

There is a fallacy often committed during debates or arguments, when one person sets up a weak caricature of the other’s position and knocks down that caricature, acting as if this means they have knocked down their opponent’s argument. This is called the Straw Man fallacy. Most open-minded individuals will usually be able to spot one, and the person who makes the fallacy will lose credibility.

But if someone does the opposite, and builds up their opponent’s position to be at its very best, such that their opponent would agree wholeheartedly at how it is put, they have made a Steel Man. Knocking down a straw man is a cheap and dirty trick. Knocking down a steel man is a well-earned and noble victory.

In a less competitive setting, such as when two people are having a friendly conversation, a steel man can keep things positive by letting the other person know you understand where they’re coming from. It is also helpful to you, whether you are with someone or thinking on your own, because understanding what you don’t believe helps you better understand what you do believe.

When world-building fantasy stories, I strive for philosophical coherence. We all know of science fiction and fantasy stories where the authors throw in whatever they feel like without worrying about how much sense it makes. Sci-fi realism, on the other hand, is when a writer takes scientific ideas and language seriously, and uses them appropriately to craft a story that might plausibly take place in the future. Similarly, medieval realism is an idea applied to fantasy such that the geography, economics, politics, armor and horses and all of that stuff, make sense. Philosophical coherence is like sci-fi and medieval realism, but with philosophy. For instance, in The Mentor, the Hero, and the Trickster, there is a magical world the main characters can go to called the Unconscious Realms, which are built according to my conception of what a world based on Berkelian Idealsim world would be like.

When I write about things like idealism and dualism, I am building up my skill in philosophical coherence. In my fantasy books, philosophical coherence will help me give them the depth and richness I strive for.

In order to further grow my skills of philosophical coherence and steel manning, I am going to start a new series called “Best Arguments Against,” where I present the arguments against my beliefs that I find the most compelling. We’ll talk about God and quantum physics and all kinds of awesome stuff. So make sure to check back regularly, because it’s going to be a fun time.

NaNo Results 2019

November is over, and I happily stand on top of 50,000 words of extreme future science fiction! The immortal Maki Tanaka First Spring has been wandering along on his million-year journey across the Milky Way. The story is not finished yet, with perhaps another 10,000 words left to go in the first draft, which I plan to finish this month.

After the first draft is finished, my wonderful friends in my new writing group and I will swap stories and critique each other. We will trade advice on what is going well, what needs work, and what to focus on. If any of you are reading this, thanks for being absolutely amazing!

The next step in my book will be to develop the characters, so they are more than props for the main character’s journey. In November’s last days, I didn’t even give the supporting characters names, going instead for placeholders like Leaderman, Otherguy, and Cap2. So they will be the first priority in preparation for draft 2.

After that, I will revisit the structure of the story, taking into account the advice from the alpha readings. Some scenes need to be scrapped, others fleshed out. When I write a first draft, I have to include the transitions between scenes, such as car rides and time spent in waiting rooms, so that I know how the characters are feeling when the interesting parts happen. These transition scenes have very little importance, and can be reduced to a few short sentences, or cut completely.

As happens in NaNoWriMo, I was rushed every day to get my word quota on the page. Because of this, the story jumps from scene to scene, and characters were made up on the fly. Some of the sections feel more like heavy outlines than immersive stories, and not one of the characters other than Maki himself is interesting. Draft 2 will probably be at least 100,000 words, putting it in the normal range of adult science fiction. After that, it may require further structural drafts, and then a prose draft, where I edit each paragraph and sentence to be the best it can be in terms of wordcraft. And after that, it will be time for query letters and publisher submission!

When will it be published? Probably not for a long time. I would be surprised if it takes less than a year. But I can guarantee that sometime in the hopefully not too distant future, you will see the name Christian Horst on the spine of a book in the sci-fi section of a bookstore.