Where
does the Lake go, when the Geese fly to Canada?
|
Her breakfasts were known to be splendid,
and prepared with enough pepper to make me cry. At the first fiery bite
I said, bathed in tears: Tonight I won’t need a full moon for my
asshole to burn. Don’t complain she said. If it burns, it’s because you
still have one, thanks be to God.
|
Gabriel Garcia
Marquez
|

It began with John
Locke (1632 – 1704). He analyzed
the communication
between mind and matter and found the process to be cluttered with
secondary
qualities and caveats. According to him, what we perceive is but a pale
apparition of the real thing “out there.” This provoked David Hume (1711 – 1776) to dismiss perception as
representing
an outer world that cannot be proven to exist. Hume’s radical
skepticism was
vexing enough to annoy George Berkeley (1685
–
1753). Like everybody else the good bishop was longing for
something
real to sink in his teeth. And what does guarantee more authenticity
and
immediacy of perception than the Ideas in the mind? Plotinus (204 – 270 AD.) had already suggested
this, fifteen
hundred years earlier. So what if perception was the real thing, the
actual
constituent? What if perception, the mind, establishes and sustains
existence
and not the other way around?
Let
us indulge and for a moment
consider the consequences of such “participatory universe” in which the
mind’s
intervention is creating the event, even decreeing the outcome of such
event.
Obviously,
there are many minds
out there, even the confirmed solipsist has now and then a run-in with
his
mother in law, and most of the other minds probably belong to
facet-eyed aliens
with feelers and antennae whose jerky limbs operate the dials of their
spaceships – hollow asteroids on a gentle spin – while traversing the
radiation
belt in the constellation Ursa Major. Sustaining perception is provided
by me,
you, your daughter, my dog and the smellyphant in the zoo, but to do
science
becomes a tricky business. Billions of minds guarantee existence but
not unity
of perception. You see a buss, I see a restaurant, and in actual fact
it is
neither but a constable on the beat wearing drag, trying to entrap
horny guys
by impersonating a lady of the night. Events in the future could
reshape the
past. Think it through: the god Berkeley was believing in is a
comparably
recent entry in the religious history of the Human race. If the
proposition is
that mind sustains “existence” – think of the cart loads of believers
who every
Sunday work on their perceptions in Church – well then the faithful is
sending
his deity on an errant into a past that didn’t know of him. Which
immediately
should result in changes of the present.
This
idea has crept in even
into modern physics. The late John Wheeler (1911
– 2008) made a foray into mysticism
and DIY
philosophy, by claiming that “we are participators in bringing into
being
not only the near and here but the far away and long ago.” Obviously this is not happening.
If we were really
“participators in
bringing about something of the universe in the distant past,” it should enable us to erase Auschwitz
from the
records. Merlin would return from his grave. Archaeology would collect
warping
and mysteriously appearing and disappearing artifacts. We would live in
a world as Jorge Luis Borges (1899
– 1986) is describing it in Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius.
Wheeler’s
idea is a byproduct
of quantum mechanics. In 1927 Werner Heisenberg (1901
– 1976) stated that short light-waves of high energy can measure
the
location of an electron with a certain degree of precision, yet the
procedure
will severely disturb the electron's impulse. Measuring the impulse of
an
electron with a light-wave of lesser amplitude will leave the impulse
less
disturbed, since long-waved light contains less energy, but then it is
the
electron's location that eludes precise measurement, diverging in a
wave of
statistical possibilities along the electron's orbit. From this
Heisenberg drew
the conclusion of a fundamental uncertainty in the correlation between
impulse
and location. A precise simultaneous measurement of location and
impulse is
just not possible, because the amplitude of the measuring light wave
can only
be short or long, not both at the same time. In other words, the moment
we try measuring
it, we destroy the correlation between impulse and position; it ceases
to
exist.
The
philosophical question here
is: was there a correlation to start with? If a measurement is not even
possible how are we to justify the stipulation that there is a
correlation?
The
answer should be simple!
There is nothing to prevent us from choosing to measure either of
the two data
in this correlation and we will always get a result, therefore the
correlation
exists, albeit hidden from direct observation. Heisenberg was a
brilliant
mathematician but a mediocre philosopher, something he, Wheeler and
many of
their colleagues in Copenhagen seemed to have in common. They felt
troubled by
the fact that the result of such measurement appears to be of our own
making.
They thought it does not entitle them to accept even the mere existence
of the
correlation between impulse and position as a physical fact. Instead
scientists
operate with an algorithm, a “probability function.” It is a good
algorithm,
these days quantum mechanics is our most precise science, down to the
eighth
digit behind the dot. Yet if the scientists would have been willing to
listen, even
a minor philosopher could have explained to them the difference between
“phenomena”
and “information.” The algorithm is representing information about the
hidden
correlation between impulse and position, it is a statement of our
knowledge
and not a representation of the phenomenon as such. We can make a
measurement,
even design the event we are measuring, but we cannot decree the
outcome of the
measurement. The involvement of the observer which scientists find so
troubling, does not mean that we can pull out unicorns from the
test-tube at
our convenience. We are not commanding nature, even if we have learned
that
after the felling of a million trees it is fair to expect that this
one, too,
is going to fall when we are finished with hacking and sawing.
The
claim that we live in a
participatory universe is just another flirt with the irrational and
would be a
meaningful statement only if every bloody thought that goes through my
mind
could materialize as an observable phenomenon. There is absolutely
nothing in
the process that warrants “participatory” universes and “anthropic
principles,”
and if somebody wishes to enthuse about the “fine tuning” of a Universe
that
made our existence possible, he better explains why he thinks it is not
us who
are fine tuned to given conditions. Why didn’t this Wheeler just shut
up and do
what he did best: running the figures? Nobody denies he was a great
physicist.
So,
if we hold on to the
proposition that “mind” sustains “existence,” how did Berkeley explain
the
stability of the physical world, the fact that things do not warp and bend to our
wishes and
fears, that there are laws of nature, physical constants and rocks that
will
not yield when we kick it? Bishop Berkeley was a man of the cloth, so
the
answer seemed obvious to him.
It
must be the Great Perceiver himself
before whose eyes we have found grace, and who knows our names. Nothing
can
exist without a mind – “His” mind – sustaining it. It was a brand new
and
wonderful proof for the existence of God. Let’s not rain on the good
bishop’s
parade and ask whose mind before the first day of creation could
possibly have
been around to endow God himself with existence. His wife, Mrs.
Asheroth
perhaps? Or an infinite number of turtles perceiving each other – very
carefully? Let’s not do this; only the wicked skeptic seeks to explain
the
world without the appeal to God’s sustaining awareness. Because of all
the
arguments for the existence of God this is the only one with the
potential of
holding water: an empirical (not a logical) proof, that things cannot
work on
their own, but need an external agent to help it along. Prove it and
you prove
the existence of God. Disprove it and "God" is just an excuse for
intellectual sloth.
Bishop
Berkeley was entitled to
put great faith in his god, but the strain of incessant omnipresence
his
philosophy is laying on the Old Potter must be unbearable. Unlike the
deity of
Isaac Newton, who is merely needed to leisurely drop the ball and kick
off the
game, before retreating to the terraces for tea and scones, the god in
Berkeley’s joyless sweatshop would be unable to step aside for a
cigarette
break without causing the whole Universe to collapse. No wonder grouchy
Yahweh
lost it for a moment and on the way to the pub suddenly assaulted his
friend
Moses with homicidal intent (Exodus 4:24). A shark with a lifetime of
sleep
depravation will empathize. It never occurred to Berkeley that every
humble mason
is doing better: once it has left the drawing board, the new building
doesn’t need
the builder to personally double in for the pillars and beams. In order
to
sustain Berkeley’s philosophy, God’s full attention and undivided
assistance is
a condition. It is the key to the stability of the world surrounding
us, and I
am not sure brash John Ruskin (1819 –
1900)
really answered it when he said, “to get rid of all the ambiguities
and
troublesome words at once, be it observed that the word ‘blue’ does not
mean
the ‘sensation’ caused by a gentian on the human eye; but it means the
‘power’
of producing that sensation. And this power is always there, in the
thing,
whether we are there to experience it or not, and would remain there
though
there were not left a man on the face of the earth. Precisely in the
same way
gunpowder has a power of exploding. It will not explode if you put no
match to
it. But it has always the power of so exploding, and is therefore
called an
explosive compound, which it very positively and assuredly is, whatever
philosophy
may say to the contrary” (Ruskin, Of
The Pathetic Fallacy).
Bertrand
Russell somewhere has
suggested that there is no logical contradiction in the idea to think
that the
Universe was created yesterday, or a few seconds ago, together with all
my
memories of a past that never was, with ancestral tombstones, with the
fossils
of Jurassic monsters hidden in the rocks, and with the light in transit
from
stars billions of light-years away. Yet again, subsequent to the act of
creation, this would require stability and natural laws – gravity, air
pressure, leverage, isotope decay and Mendeleyev's table of elements –
fully apply. Any
“participatory”
aberration and the cosmic hoax becomes a psychedelic experience. Minor
disturbances caused by minor minds as ours, or by our facet
eyed-friends
from Ursa
Mayor, would continually ripple through the picture. Coming to think of
it, Lord
Russell’s proposition must refer to the guy sipping his tea on the
terraces.
Meanwhile
I am standing at the
reed-fringed Lake, watching the geese gathering in the clouded sky.
Even as the
last man on Earth, I would of course be able to go away and the lake is
still
there, because the little minds of the circling geese continue
sustaining its
existence. But where does the lake go when the geese fly to Canada?
Sounds
almost like Zen, doesn’t
it?
©
– 4/21/2009 – by michael sympson, 1,925 words, all rights reserved