Fundamentals of Philosophy
Fundamentals of Philosophy
― an introduction ―
J. A. Durieux
truth@in•biep•org
Sense input
Neurological research has discovered that what we see is only tenuously related to what is “out
there”. Most people know about optical illusions, but those only form the surface.
Processing the image of an approaching car takes about half a second, which may mean the
difference between a safe traversal and a painful death. So our brain edits the image, and moves the
car forward the amount it guesses it will move in that half second – we “see” the car where it
probably is by the time we have processed the image, and not where our eyes saw it. In the case of
sudden changes in direction this system will not work, and arbiter decisions on whether a tennis ball
was in or out are notoriously unreliable, as the advent of film has shown.
A phenomenon called “change blindness” makes that we tend not to see even major changes, as
long as they happen during a saccade (a jump of the eye orientation from one point to another).
There are puzzles where it is hard to spot some major differences between two images, and there is
a computer set-up where the screen shows a changing whirl of random letters, but the person whose
eye movements are tracked sees a static, meaningful text. An amusing test was done where a
2 As Darwin put it to William Graham (3 July 1881): “But then with me the horrid doubt always arises whether the
convictions of man’s mind, which has been developed from the mind of the lower animals, are of any value or at all
trustworthy. Would any one trust in the convictions of a monkey's mind, if there are any convictions in such a
mind?” That is, if blind evolution is true, we can never trust the mind that discovers that fact.
The diallelus
We all have met cases of false memories. Psychiatry tells us people can have really weird beliefs –
so how can we know we are not madmen with utterly false beliefs?
What about safety in numbers: if I have observed something often, or if most people agree with me,
I will probably be right. But without already trusting my memory, or believing I am not dreaming,
how can I know that I have observed often, or that other people agreeing with me exist? Or without
already trusting my thinking, how can I know there is safety in numbers? Maybe I am wrong, and
general agreement is a sure sign of error instead! One million lemmings can’t be wrong!
Most people, when confronted with questions such as the above, get impatient and will shrug and
brush them aside, because they don't know any answers and yet are sure they can know things. And
they are right: we can know things (and in fact, we know just that), so the scepticism that those
questions seem to point to is unnecessary. But we also know we are often wrong, and with a bit of
thinking we realise that any world view according to which we cannot know things must be wrong.
And that is where the diallelus kicks in.
I can know that I am in pain, or that I experience yellow. I can know that because I myself am the
paining one, or the one experiencing the yellow colour. I might be wrong regarding the cause of the
pain, or even in my belief I have a body – after all I might be a dreaming ghost –, but the pain itself,
or the sensation of yellow, is undeniable, as I myself am the source of that knowledge. But how can
we know anything of which we are not the source?
This is the diallelus: if we have a criterion to separate true external knowledge from falsehood, how
can we know that criterion is correct in the first place? How can we know we can trust any given
source and path of information?
(As an example, we already saw that an evolved brain may contain reasoning errors, just like
programs may contain bugs. Our intuition, which is far older, is quite buggy after all.)
The diallelus states that external knowledge is impossible, because whatever criterion for truth we
use in establishing that knowledge, we should first have to know that criterion – leading to an
infinite regress.
And that means that only world views in which the diallelus doesn't apply have a chance of being
true. If we know that we can know something, the world must be such that we can know that, and
any world view that describes a world in which we cannot must needs be false.
3 Direct knowledge can be separated in knowledge a priori, which is all the stuff we “just know” without having to
learn it through experience, and direct experience, such as the knowledge one is aware of pain, if one is.
4 Without the principle of uniformity (also called the Copernican principle, or the principle of symmetry) no
generalised learning is possible. I may learn that at this moment the world is such and such, but I need uniformity
in time to conclude that my house will probably still be there tomorrow. This principle of uniformity itself must
again be knowledge a priory, because it cannot be learned from experience – the so-called induction problem:
without already trusting induction I cannot take the fact that induction has worked up till now to conclude it will
probably work tomorrow.
5 Which is why the sentence “I am lying” is a paradox: neither a liar nor a truth speaker would say it.
Our world
Then there is our world. The transcendent mind may dream myriads of other worlds – we don't
know that –, but we do know our world is there.
Tertiary relating
To start with the latter: tertiary relating is what the sciences do, and what we all tend to do when we
see objects. We see things “out there” and tend to think about them without at the same time
thinking about ourselves as observers of those things.
It is in fact this tendency we have to forget our own rôle in the process of perceiving the external
world that gives materialism its superficial plausibility: we can only see matter and its behaviour.
When scientist try to interpret behaviour, they either can find a law that predicts that behaviour
completely, or they cannot. In the first case the behaviour is called deterministic, whereas in the
second case it is called random. Remark that randomness is not about cause of the behaviour, but
only about the ability of the scientists to predict it. People who don’t understand this sometimes
talk about some behaviour “caused by randomness”, but that is nonsense. Scientists try to describe
random behaviour in probabilistic terms – by describing how often the one or the other behaviour
tends to occur.
Primary relating
Tertiary relating has brought us an immense amount of knowledge, and it is extremely useful – but
it breaks down when we try to apply it to ourselves. We may watch other people, and maybe look
into their brains, and predict what choices they will make – but we can never predict our own
choices that way.
When we look at ourselves “from the outside”, as just another object, we see a being that may or
may not behave a certain way. But when we look at ourselves “from the inside” we see something
completely different. Someone else may see brain cells firing – I feel the weight of an important
decision, with moral and aesthetic implications. I know I have a certain obligation, and a certain
feeling about the outcome. Tertiary observation is fundamentally unable ever to discover such
things.
In myself I also experience freedom, the ability to choose either one way or the other. This freedom
is what prevents scientists from fully predicting my behaviour – the source of what they call
randomness.
Mixing levels
A scientist who only relates in a tertiary way could argue that, as among all the particles and forces
that make up the universe there is no such thing as an obligation, or a moral requirement, everything
is permitted. It would of course be stupid to steal and be caught, but if one can steal without being
caught (either because one is not detected or because one has the power to protect oneself) one
would be stupid to do so. And in fact, many materialists think that way, and act on it once they are
high enough in power.
Freedom
Freedom gives another good example.
We saw there was freedom, as required by love. Our thoughts are free, and it is that freedom which
allows us to choose to love (or to reject love). (Since our thoughts are thoughts of the transcendent
mind, he is free too: our free thoughts are his free thoughts.)
Without freedom there would be no responsibility. The thief would have no choice but to steal, and
the judge would have no choice but to convict or release – not because convicting or releasing is
just, but because the particles in the judge's brain happen to make him take that decision.
Scientists sometimes dismiss freedom as an illusion, because all that exists is determinism and
randomness. We already saw the error of turning randomness into a “force”, but let’s say the world
were fully deterministic. Would that preclude true freedom? No way: I can dream a deterministic
world in which nevertheless things happen the way I want them to happen – all I have to do is to
dream the causes for those events too. So I am free to dream the story of my fantasy world however
I want it to be, even while dreaming that that world is utterly deterministic.
Freedom
And now it should be clear that the very dreaming of the transcendent mind is an ontic event, not an
economical one: it is prior to the world it is dreaming. But that means it is not bound by the rules of
our level of existence, but is free to create a world both deterministic and running according to the
intentions of the transcendent mind.
Abstract notions
The existence of the transcendent mind also solves another famous philosophical problem: that of
abstract notions – do they exist or not? Does “two” exist? If so, what is it? If not, what does a pair
of shoes have in common with a pair of parents?
Universalists maintain that redness, visibility, joy, beauty, truth, and all such concepts do exist,
whereas nominalists claim they are just names that don't refer to anything existing. Both positions
are problematic, but looking at the transcendent mind we find a new answer. Everything in our
world is a thought in the dream of the transcendent mind – and “existence” means “being thought of
by the transcendent mind”. And that means that as soon as we think of, say, the notion “unicorn”,
so does the transcendent mind, because our thoughts are his thoughts (he has no doubt many more
thoughts than we do, though), and because he thinks the notion, the notion exists.
This answers the question: all such notions exist, and their content is the thought of commonality
that exists in the transcendent mind.
Goodness
What is goodness, or obligation? There is the famous philosophical problem of “the is and the
ought”. All our senses only observe the world as it is (if we are not deceived), not as it ought to be.
So how can there be an “ought”, an obligation, and even if there were, how could we know it?
The naturalistic fallacy is the mistake of trying to derive moral imperatives from the world we live
in – including maybe a God who prescribes. The fact that anyone, even a god or God, prescribes
something does not in itself make it good, and even if it were good, that in itself would not obligate
me to do it. This argument is called “Hume's guillotine”.
However, the transcendent mind is thinking this world, and his thoughts necessarily are truth – we
already saw that he was omniscient and infallible regarding our world. But that also means that if
he thinks something is good, or that we ought to do it, it is good, and we indeed ought to do it.
So, in short, some things are good, and we ought to do them, because the transcendent mind is
thinking a world in which these things really are good and ought to be done, and being good himself
he prescribes just those things. So that meshes beautifully with our earlier discovery that the
transcendent mind is fully good, again strengthening the confidence in our conclusions.
This also answers Euthyphro's dilemma: “Is something good because the gods approve of it (which
would mean goodness is arbitrary and subjective), or do the gods approve of it it because it is good
(which would mean they are subject to an external standard)?” The answer is: “It is good because
the transcendent mind thinks a world in which it is objectively good, and he commands it because it
is objectively good.” The Greek immanent gods would indeed be unable to create objective
goodness, but the transcendent mind is able to.
Other objective standards, such as logic and truth, are built into this world in the same way.
Morality
So far we have done some abstract thinking about what we can know, and about what is. Now we'll
start thinking about what ought to be – about what we ought to do. So the results of this chapter
will put a moral obligation on us. Many people are afraid of that, and stop their thinking here.
Incarnation.
The fact that the transcendent mind will respect the moral rules of our world makes it easier to
reason about his approach. Within those rules, justice requires reparation of wrongs. Now if you
break my window, I have only four options (plus mixes of those four):
1. The window stays broken. This is not good, as the wrong would not be repaired.
2. I require you to pay. This would be just, because you broke it, but it would not be loving of
me – especially if the price of the window is much higher than you could ever hope to pay.
Solidarity
But is it just if one person pays for another person's debts, if one person takes the punishment for
another person's transgression? Well, is it just if I-today am punished for what I-yesterday did? If
my skin is beaten for what my brain did? Or should only the one brain cell that took the final
decision to act be punished? This is the problems of the one and the many, and of identity, at play.
In a general partnership, if one partner makes debts, all can be persecuted, because they have
declared solidarity. Parents can – and should – pay for the damage caused by their children.
Members of the same sports club, or even of the same country, can say: “We won!”, even if they
didn't play, because they identify with the club or country.
It is this solidarity, this mutual identification, which creates the unit that bears responsibility. The
transcendent mind declared his solidarity with us by incarnating; it is up to us now to declare
solidarity with the transcendent mind in order to be able to accept his offer. We must, in a very
literal (though not physical) sense become parts of the same body.
Our choice.
So now it is up to us, to find this offer, and to accept it. If we do, we can be assured that the
transcendent mind, who already did not destroy us after we had rejected his standards of goodness,
will certainly never destroy us after returning to him. If we reject the offer, we reject him, and
permit him (or even ask him by our rejection) to retract fully from us.
The consequences.
So everyone must make that choice. At some point all those choices are clear, and the transcendent
mind will retract from those who did not accept him. As he is absolute goodness himself, this
means absolutely no good will remain with those people. On the contrary, he will fully be with
Meaning
We see that some things, some activities are meaningful, have a goal: they are part of something
bigger that gives them a reason for being. A tyre has meaning, because it helps make the car run;
the car has meaning because it allows me to get to Beijing; my trip has meaning because it allows
me to teach; my teaching has meaning because it allows people better to speak Chinese – all this is
relative meaning. If it turns out to be useless that people speak better Chinese, then my teaching
has no absolute meaning, nor has my trip to Beijing, et cetera. In the end, whether anything in this
world has absolute meaning depends on whether this universe as a whole has meaning.
Science tells us that at some point in the future this universe will either collapse with a big crunch,
or expand into infinity and undergo the “heat death”, where all our efforts will be lost. That means
that absolute meaning cannot come from the future. (Likewise it cannot come from the past
because of the big bang.)
If there is no transcendent mind, there is no real meaning to anything we are or do. If, on the other
hand, there is a transcendent mind, then our world finds its meaning in that mind – the way our
dream can be meaningful for us. Elements of our world can be meaningful if they agree with that
mind and if that mind in itself is good.
Belonging
Meaning is also connected with belonging, with being at home. There can be a wonderful sense of
belonging together when a group works together for some good cause. Yet, as long as the meaning
of that good cause is only relative, that happiness is only temporary and limited. Our parents
worked hard to build up the country after the war, but we realise there is no inherent good in this
country as opposed to another country, and we rightly feel unwilling to spend our lives that way.
And because we have chosen evil, we also miss out on the truly good: many of our goals are not
really good – and because of that we feel guilt. We may try to hide this feeling, or silence it by
being busy with entertainment, but deep inside it is there, until we accept the payment by the
transcendent mind. If we look at meaning or love it is the same thing: if we limit ourselves to the
actual world we’ll only find relative and disappointing meaning and love.
Under materialism there is no belonging. Particles are where they are. Materialism can say that the
splinter is in my foot, but not that the splinter does not belong in my foot. My body is a collection
of particles, but so are all the left eyes of the inhabitants of Beijing. Who says that my body
belongs together but all those left eyes don’t? Only a transcendent mind can create belonging, by
thinking it.
The solution
Only in our connection with the transcendent mind we can be really at home, really loved, really
happy, really good and free from guilt, and really meaningful. We know that these are goals for us:
we want to be happy, loved, et cetera – but often we don’t reach those goals, because we search for
them directly, instead of reaching them indirectly by doing what we were meant to do, and being
what we were meant to be. And if we do that, we’ll only end up frustrated if we don’t get there, or
bored if we do. Only by returning to the transcendent mind we can find true meaning, true love,
true happiness, true belonging, true goodness, true freedom – and many other desirable goods about
which I haven’t had the chance to write here. First search the transcendent mind, and those other
things will be given you.