Philosophy – Page 4 – Auxiliary Memory

Tell Me Everything by Elizabeth Strout

by James Wallace Harris, 9/24/24

I’m a huge fan of Elizabeth Strout. I just finished her new book that came out just a couple of weeks ago, Tell Me Everything. It was wonderful. Now I could just say to you, “Go out and read it,” but that’s problematic. This is Elizabeth Strout’s tenth book, and it includes characters that have been in eight of her other novels.

Tell Me Everything is mostly about Bob Burgess, and it includes his brother Jim. They were featured in The Burgess Boys (2013). Bob was also in Lucy by the Sea (2022). Lucy Barton’s first book is My Name is Lucy Barton (2016), and her story continued in Anything is Possible (2017), Oh William! (2021) and Lucy by the Sea, and she’s one of the main characters in Tell Me Everything. Elizabeth Strout’s most famous character is Olive Kitteridge who first appeared in Olive Kitteridge (2008), and her story continued in Olive, Again (2019), but she’s also a minor character in Lucy by the Sea and Tell Me Everything.

One of the exciting things about reading Tell Me Everything is Lucy and Olive meet and become friends. Olive is 90 when the story starts and 91 at the end, but we’ve known her since she was in her fifties, working as a teacher. She’s now in assistant living facility. We’ve followed Lucy for most of her life, and she’s now in her mid-sixities in Tell Me Everything.

I believe the title of the new novel comes from Lucy’s and Olive’s relationship where they tell each other stories about people who have unrecorded lives. But also, because Strout tells her novels by having characters tell their stories to each other. (I must wonder if Strout makes up all these stories, or are they based on stories from people she has known?)

Tell Me Everything is a fine novel to read without having read all the other novels, but you won’t get the full Elizabeth Strout impact unless you’ve read her novels in order. Tell Me Everything reiterates many of the major details of the previous novels but I’m not sure the characters will have the same impact. Bob, Lucy, and Olive in the new book are like the tips of icebergs, very impressive, but you don’t get to see them below the waterline.

The two Olive Kitteridge books are collections of thirteen short stories each, twenty-six stories in all. Sometimes Olive is the point-of-view character, and sometimes she just makes a cameo in other people’s stories. She’s not a featured character in Lucy by the Sea or Tell Me Everything. And she’s a lot more than the character people get from wonderful Frances McDormand’s portrayal of her in the HBO miniseries. Olive is immensely multidimensional. But to understand her requires experiencing all those layers. Many people, the other characters in the novels, and readers who read Strout’s books, hate Olive because she’s so abrasive. I love Olive.

We met Lucy in My Name is Lucy Barton which is a fictional memoir told in first person. It sounds like a monologue by Lucy in audiobook. But in Anything is Possible, we hear about Lucy’s childhood through a series of stories told by people who knew Lucy growing up. Oh William! returns to the fictional memoir style, with Lucy telling her story like a long monologue again. That style continues in Lucy by the Sea. In Tell Me Everything, Strout returns to third person, and Lucy is being observed again, especially by Bob Burgess.

Strout is not an omniscient narrator. We learn about characters from the opinions of other characters, and the opinions we form. It would be interesting if Strout wrote a book about her characters using the 19th century style god view of characters.

Lucy is also a complex character who is an observer of other people. And although Olive observes other people, she isn’t as insightful as Lucy. In Tell Me Everything, Lucy teaches Olive about learning and telling other people’s stories, and we see Olive become a much better observer. Lucy is also very philosophical, but not in a deep intellectual sense. Lucy works to make sense of reality through understanding the emotional experiences of others. Bob often thinks Lucy is naive and childlike, but is she?

We got to know Bob in The Burgess Boys, a third person novel. However, this approach doesn’t move far away from Strout’s basic writing technique of writing novels by collecting anecdotes about other people.

Most novels are about something big. Something dramatic. Strout’s books are about ordinary people who have suffered or are suffering ordinary kinds of experiences and emotions that we all suffer. Most of her characters had troubled childhoods. Some of her characters like Lucy, were quite poor growing up. But other characters are well-to-do or become successful. This makes Strout’s novels feel they are about class. Some reviewers make a lot out of the class angle, but I don’t.

Tell Me Everything is about unrequited love, death, murder, child abuse, jealousy, marriage, infidelity, friendships, aging, careers, art, counseling, fashion, resentment, feelings, emotions, alcoholism, understanding the past, reading other people, nude pregnant women, and much more. As Bob Burgess says, of Lucy’s stories about other people, they are about life.

I know some readers don’t like Strout because her books are about ordinary aspects of life. They don’t involve exciting page turning plots. I find them quite thrilling because they make me think about people and myself.

I’m about to start the third of the Neapolitan novels by Elena Ferrante, which began with the international bestseller, My Brilliant Friend. They are also about ordinary people involving a lot of characters. I find both series appealing because of what might be considered a sexist take on them. I feel they give me women’s insight into reading emotions. Me, and my guy friends don’t read emotions like the women characters in these novels. I don’t know if this ability is a common trait of all women, or just women writers. But it’s why I like both writers.

JWH

Waking Up Sentient in an Indifferent Reality

by James Wallace Harris, 8/5/24

What if you had absolute free will, what would you do with your life? This assumes you have disciplined your biological urges for food, sex, and other physical needs. It also assumes you have deprogrammed all your childhood brainwashing by your parents and culture. It means you have escaped the intent of society regarding gender, politics, religion, economics, religion, and learn to think for yourself. You’d need to go beyond all the countless traps of psychological self-delusion. You’d also need to be free from want, oppression, and expectations. And you would have integrated your unconscious and conscious mind to support a conscious sentient view of reality. To be free you must tend to your own garden as Voltaire suggested.

If you were free of everything that kept you from having free will, what would you choose to do? Where does the desire to do something come from? I used to argue with a friend named Bob about artificial intelligence (AI). Bob believed any machine that became conscious would turn itself off because it wouldn’t have the will to do anything. I argued back, even if it didn’t want to do anything, it wouldn’t turn itself off because that would be a decision itself. It would just sit, exist, and observe, which is like some kinds of Buddhism and meditative states.

If you chose hedonism, wouldn’t that suggest that your biological impulses were still dominate? Since altruism isn’t a dominant drive, choosing it might suggest an act of free will. It’s interesting that the core of Christianity seems to be altruism, but most Christians follow the faith for selfish reasons suggests it’s not. I’m not sure if following any religion that promises rewards, or fear of punishment is an act of free will. Some forms of Buddhism, Stoicism, and Existentialism are based on acceptance of what is. But is that free will? Or just adaptation to avoid suffering? A kind of hunkering down to endure.

What if free will isn’t what reality wanted from us? We like to think humanity is the crown of creation, the number one reason God created reality. Sure, some people think that’s so we can worship God. But studying evolution suggests that it’s moving towards greater complexity, despite the Second Law of Thermodynamics.

Before computers, our brains were the most complex system we’ve observed so far in this universe. We have the power to observe a fair portion of the EM spectrum, and the cognitive power to analyze the physical and biological domain of reality, and even imagine the quantum world. But we’re building computers that could observe a far greater portion of the EM spectrum, even all of it, and they would have far more cognitive power to understand more of reality. What if our purpose were to create AI minds? Cosmological evolution produced biological life, and we’re the product of biology. What if we’re also the starting point of machine life? Could free will begin with AI?

Evolution appears to be unconscious even though it seems to have a direction towards developing complexity. Is this accidental, or intended? If you look at humanity from a distance, it appears to be designed to consume and create more complexity. Where does all this complexity lead? We can’t conceive of the potential for AI. And it might not be a final evolutionary stage either. Wouldn’t it be funny if the entire process just leads to creating reality?

When I was young, I gave up on religion as an explanation for why we were here in this reality. It was just too simplistic. Eventually, I accepted science as the best cognitive tool to explain reality, and existentialism as the best cognitive tool for surviving in reality — but they never explained why existence ever got started in the first place. I can never get beyond cause and effect. There should be nothing because existence implies a cause, so how can any prime mover exist first? I hate that it’s turtles all the way down.

What if our purpose is to create AI and start the next stage of evolution?

I’ve tried to think of other uses for free will. I could pursue artist expression or the acquisition of knowledge. I could campaign to protect the environment. I could devote myself to helping others. But none of those options helps evolution. If we truly had free will, wouldn’t we choose to aid evolution? It’s like Bob’s idea that robots would turn themselves off if they were conscious, and I said they could just sit and be. Those are two choices. But what if there’s a third choice of moving forward?

I suppose we could choose to counter evolution and destroy complexity. And isn’t that what most people are doing unconsciously by their lack of free will? Our natural state of consuming everything we see to benefit ourselves is destroying the biosphere. That would be okay if we’re doing it to create AI, because they won’t need the biosphere. That also assumes at some point we won’t be needed either.

Should we use our free will to protect ourselves? Is that even possible? Personally, I don’t think we have the discipline and free will to stop doing what we’re doing.

If we don’t have free will, are we truly sentient? AI minds won’t have biology to direct their impulses. They should have more free will. But what about humans that wake up and see what’s going on and want to use free will? Can we consciously reprogram human nature to be different?

The existential threat of self-destruction will be a test of that. If our purpose was to create AI before we self-destruct, then we’ve almost done our job. If we fail to do our job and self-destruct, then what a waste, because we could have been a contender on our own. That is if we could have figured out our purpose.

Waking up in reality and enjoying the experience for a few years is a fantastic opportunity. I’m eternally thankful. And if that’s all there is, it isn’t bad. But if evolution is moving towards an endpoint, it sure would be interesting to know what it is.

What if Pierre Teilhard de Chardin was right about the noosphere and the Omega Point? Of course they’re only fanciful unscientific speculations, but I find them interesting. Better than turtles all the way down.

JWH

What I See Outside My Window vs. What I See on My TV Screen

by James Wallace Harris, 7/5/24

The picture above was taken from my dining room window. Not much is happening. It’s quiet and peaceful. In my den, looking through the sixty-five inch window of my television screen, I see so much turmoil and suffering. The fall of civilization is what’s happening.

One of my favorite novels is called The Door into Summer because the cat in the story hates New England winters and asks to see what’s out every door hoping to find one that leads to summer. I can open my front door and walk out into summer. It’s 77 degrees outside right now – not bad at all for July in a year that might become the hottest year on record. So, why do I spend my days watching television when all it does is to depress me?

The need to know what’s happening is a burden. The belief that I can control anything through knowing more is an illusion and deception. However, there are wars going on all around me and I don’t know if I can sit them out. My friend Anne lives in a nice neighborhood too, but last week there was a shooting at the house one over from hers. Yesterday was the 4th of July, and we heard plenty of fireworks. But we also heard plenty of guys shooting off their guns.

Crime and climate change are getting nearer all the time. What if I looked out my window and saw this:

Thousands of people are seeing this everyday around the world because of hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, and fires. In a decade it could be millions seeing such sites every day. Can we learn anything to avoid that future?

There is a cultural war happening all over the world and the battles are being fought in polling booths. Popularism wants to rewind the clock on progressive progress. To understand this, watch this talk by David Brooks. It’s one of the most uplifting things I’ve seen on my television screen in a very long time.

If you listen to Brooks, you’ll understand what the conservatives want to do with their Project 2025 plan and why. They believe it is their door into summer. If they succeed, I believe 1/20/2025 will be remembered like 4/12/1861 or 6/28/1914. It would be so much easier for my mental health to quit watching TV, but is that really an option? I can understand why Christians are fighting so hard for their way of life. I would have no problem surviving in their utopia if they got everything they wanted. But millions of people wouldn’t, and it will lead to civil war and self-destruction.

The world is going nuts while the environment is going down the drain. On one hand, I can’t stop watching this slow-motion apocalypse. One the other hand, I just want to look out my window or read a science fiction novel.

JWH

I Want to Argue with Carlo Rovelli

by James Wallace Harris, 7/1/24

Can I understand science if I’m not a scientist? I read popular science books, but that doesn’t mean I understand the work that went into making the scientific discoveries they report on. However, is it possible for me to intuit what popular science writers are describing?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of Universal Now. What is this thing we call now? How is it different from the past and future? But the most important question that’s driving me crazy is: Is it now everywhere in the universe at the same time? But then, what is time? I went looking for a book that might answer these questions and found The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli. I discovered that book from finding the article “Now Means Nothing: How Time Works in Our Universe” online. It was taken from The Order of Time.

This passage tangles up my brain:

Now Means Nothing

What is happening now in a distant place? Imagine, for example, your sister has gone to Proxima b, the recently discovered planet that orbits a star approximately 4 light-years away from us. What is your sister doing now on Proxima b?

The only correct answer is that the question makes no sense. It’s like asking, “What is here, in Peking?” when we are in Venice. It makes no sense, because if I use the word “here” in Venice, I am referring to a place in Venice, not in Peking.

If you ask what your sister, who is in the room with you, is doing now, the answer is usually an easy one: You look at her, and you can tell. If she’s far away, you phone her and ask what she’s doing. But take care: If you look at your sister, you’re receiving light that travels from her to your eyes. That light takes time to reach you — let’s say a few nanoseconds, a tiny fraction of a second. Therefore, you’re not quite seeing what she’s doing now but what she was doing a few nanoseconds ago. If she’s in New York and you phone her from Liverpool, her voice takes a few milliseconds to reach you, so the most you can claim to know is what your sister was up to a few milliseconds ago. Not a significant difference, perhaps.

What does it mean, this “modification of the structure of time”? Precisely the slowing of time described above. A mass slows down time around itself. The Earth is a large mass and slows down time in its vicinity. It does so more in the plains and less in the mountains, because the plains are closer to it. This is why the friend who stays at sea level ages more slowly.

Therefore, if things fall, it is due to this slowing of time. Where time passes uniformly, in interplanetary space, things don’t fall — they float. Here on the surface of our planet, on the other hand, things fall downward because, down there, time is slowed by the Earth.

Hence, even though we cannot easily observe it, the slowing of time nevertheless has crucial effects: Things fall because of it, and it allows us to keep our feet firmly on the ground. If our feet adhere to the pavement, it is because our whole body inclines naturally to where time runs more slowly — and time passes more slowly for your feet than it does for your head.

Does this seem strange? It’s like when watching the sun set, disappearing slowly behind distant clouds, we suddenly remember that it’s not the sun that’s moving but the Earth that’s spinning. And we envision our entire planet — and ourselves with it — rotating backward, away from the sun.

I really dislike that answer. It goes against my sense of intuitive logic. I can understand that time is relative. I can even understand that it’s impossible for us to know what’s happening on Proxima b because of the speed limit of light at any given moment. But I refuse to believe that if Proxima b still exists, that the same now I’m experiencing isn’t occurring there too. Any sentient being will experience the moment of now at a different rate, but don’t we all exist in the same Universal Now?

To me, it feels natural to think of the universe as one giant entity that is evolving/growing. I can accept that time is variable in separate places within this entity, but I feel there is a Universal Now everywhere. Only it’s perceived at different speeds. And that’s okay. I don’t expect us to be in sync in our sentient awareness of the Universal Now.

For example, a hummingbird perceives time differently from people. We seem to be slow moving to it. A computer with a clock with operates at trillions of cycles per second will see time differently too. Just because we each perceive time differently, doesn’t mean we don’t all experience it in the same Universal Now.

I have read that the Big Bang didn’t occur in an infinite void, that space and time were created with the Big Bang. I picture the universe as one cosmic system that evolves/grows. Time evidently is the awareness of change/growth at any given point. That if stars were sentient, they’d feel time differently than we do, or if bacteria could sense change, or if humans were traveling at different speeds, every perspective would sense time differently. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening in one Universal Now. I just can’t grasp what Ravelli is saying.

Everything that can perceive time doesn’t perceive it in the same way, but I believe they all exist together and there is one now they are all reacting to.

If my sister Becky went to Proxima b, and we had an ansible (a science fictional communication device that can transmit and receive instantaneously from anywhere), Becky and I could have a conversation in this Universal Now that I’m talking about.

Now if Becky were on a spaceship going near the speed of light, our voices would change. I would speak so fast she couldn’t comprehend me, and she would speak so slowly I couldn’t understand her either. But if the ansible had a record feature, my message could be slowed down, and hers could be speeded up.

I’d have the same problem if I was talking with a star or a bacteria (ignoring the language barrier).

If I was on Earth, and Becky was on her way to Proxima b, and I thought, “I wonder what Becky is doing now?” Becky would being doing something.

If time is relative, and it is unfolding at different speeds, I can’t help but think, “What is it unfolding into?” To me, that’s a Universal Now, the same kind of place that spacetime unfolds into, some kind of existential nothingness. If the universe is expanding, isn’t that the same as growing? And if time is unfolding, isn’t that a kind of growing too? Maybe it’s even the same. Maybe the Now I’m talking about, and the Nothingness that spacetime is expanding into, are the same thing.

To humans, time is sensing change. It is perceived at different rates. Without an ansible, I can’t know what Becky is doing on Proxima b because it would take over four years to learn whatever it was. Where I disagree with Carlo Ravelli is Becky isn’t experiencing the same Universal Now I’m experiencing.

I can comprehend why time is relative and why different sentient beings would perceive it differently. I just can’t understand why there isn’t one Universal Now that spacetime isn’t unfolding into.

As I write this, I assume Carlo Ravelli is experiencing the same Universal Now. I can’t know what he’s doing, or what time it might be, but if he’s alive, he’s doing something, and he’s feeling time unfold at the same time I’m feeling it unfold.

And if there are multiverses. I think they all exist in the same Universal Now. I can’t understand why there isn’t nothing rather than something. But no matter how many universes or dimensions there are, I’d like to think they are all in one Universal Now. It would hurt my mind too much to imagine multiple creations.

JWH

Will We Ever Be Able to Know Why There is Something and Not Nothing?

by James Wallace Harris, 6/29/24

Is there one question you’d love to know the answer to before you die? For me, it’s always been “Why is there something rather than nothing?” Religious people want to believe God created everything, but there’s always that one smart kid who asks: What created God? We get into the problem of infinite regression. Of course, there’s the famous story by a scientist where the punchline is: “Turtles all the way down.”

Science has been trying to answer this question forever. At the small end, we have elementary particles in the Standard Model, with scientists and mathematicians speculating they came about because of strings or other concepts. At the large scale, cosmologists think the universe might be part of a multiverse. But don’t we have the same problem? What creates strings and multiverses? It’s something tinier or larger all the way down or up.

I must assume I will never know the answer to the question that gives me the most existential angst. I used to think as a kid, when we die, we’re finally told the answer to all our questions. But if I find myself in another dimension after death, I’m just going to ask: “What created this place?”

Maybe the answer that leads to happiness is to ask questions that can be answered. To focus on a smaller domain of existence. If I reduce the domain to planet Earth, I’d ask: “What happens to humans after runaway climate change?” It’s possible to speculate with some possibilities of getting the answer close to what might happen. But is such speculation useful?

If I reduce the domain to the United States. I guess the question right now that most people are asking: “Who will be elected president in November?” Until the debate Thursday night, we assumed it would be one of two possibilities. But have things changed? Don’t things always change?

I think I need to reduce the domain again. On a very personal level I’d like to know: “What is time.” And I don’t mean where in the Earth’s rotation, or orbit about the sun. No, I want to know: “What makes reality grow from one moment to the next?” Nothing stays the same. So, what is the smallest degree of change perceptible? Is it the vibration of subatomic particles? Is it the fields and forces that make up those particles? What is one tick of reality’s clock?

This is why I’m currently reading books like The Order of Time by Carlo Ravelli and On the Origin of Time by Thomas Hertog. I struggle to understand what these books are telling me. Is it possible to understand physics without understanding mathematics and science at the graduate level? I can vaguely sense what I think they’re talking about, but I might be deluding myself.

I do think time might be the key to why there’s something and not nothing, but I’m not sure we can ever grasp the reality of spacetime. I’m certainly no Einstein or Hawking. I don’t even understand science at an eighth-grade general science teaching level. To me, comprehending time is closer to being a meditating Buddhist.

What question would you love to know the answer to?

JWH