Radical Scepticism

It is possible to construct a scenario wherein all the above divisions still remain within our own mind. Perhaps we are just a brain in a tank, manipulated by a Cartesian demon who externally divides our mind and experiences into the multiple categories defined above. If our mind exists in some sort of virtual reality, then there’s no reason why this demon could not provide us stimuli we could change, and stimuli we could not change.

In a video game, you can move your character around an environment, but you typically cannot change the physics of that environment. However, both the movements (what you can change) and the physics (what you cannot change) are equally products of the designers and programmers of the game. For instance, they have programmed it so you are unable to redesign your environment; only their decision results in an unchangeable environment as you play.

To think of it another way, if you are directing a production of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, you are generally not allowed or encouraged to alter the text. Fidelity to Shakespeare’s source material requires that the actors memorize and repeat the Bard’s words. You can change the staging, the environment, the costumes, even cut some scenes – but you are not supposed to alter the language itself. However, this is merely a convention of the theatre. There is no absolute reason why you cannot monkey around with the text as much as you want. Shakespeare chose the words he put down, and convention encourages us to follow them, but there is nothing absolute in any of those decisions.

If you are directing a more contemporary play, the playwright might not allow you to change the text at all.

Exorcising the Cartesian Demon

Can we escape this logical possibility of being nothing more than an externally controlled brain?

While it is possible to examine any number of scenarios that could support the “brain in a tank” hypothesis, it is also fairly easy to push back against this proposal to the point where it topples right over.

To begin, we must examine the standard of the “null hypothesis.”

If you have a hypothesis that cannot possibly be disproved, then you have added nothing whatsoever to the sum total of knowledge, truth, understanding or perception – or to anything, for that matter. If I say that I have an invisible friend named Bob, and then steadfastly reject and refuse any standards or criteria by which the existence of Bob can be established, what am I doing except wasting everyone’s time? (Often, annoyingly, that is precisely the point.)

Another way of approaching this problem is to remember that anything that is asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.

There is a kind of intellectual black hole that fools and trolls deploy to entrap the unwary. They propose a ridiculous hypothesis, and then deny all attempts to disprove it. I remember a young man once putting forward the thesis that the Soviet wall in Berlin was actually designed to keep Westerners out of the paradise of East Berlin. His mother and I railed against this hypothesis, but of course the goalpost kept moving, and nothing could ever be established with any certainty. If we peered over the wall and saw a dingy dystopia, well that was just a hallucination projected by the benevolent rulers of the communist paradise. When we pointed out to the young man that the machine guns were pointed inwards, he said this was just to make it look bad, so people would not break down the wall trying to break into the utopia, and so on.

Arguing with fools is not always a completely useless exercise, but taken to extremes and applied consistently, all it produces among the intelligent is intellectual paralysis and self-destroying radical scepticism, which again is often the point.

Remember: If a hypothesis cannot possibly be disproved, it can be irrefutably dismissed.

The reason is that a truth proposition must be compared to something in order to find out whether it is true or not. Truth cannot be entirely self-referential. Otherwise, it cannot be the truth at all. Truth is a standard that we apply to propositions that reference something other than their own principles or arguments. For instance, if I say there are two bananas on the table, is that a true statement? Well, if a pair of bananas is sitting on the table, then yes. If there is only one banana, or no bananas, or three mangoes and an elephant – then it is a false statement.

If you are not allowed to look at the table, is my statement true or false? It cannot be verified, so it doesn’t matter.

If I say that I dreamt about two bananas last night, however, there is no way to objectively verify my statement. You may believe me, if you think I am an honest person, but it cannot be established as “true” in any rational or empirical fashion.

Personal, subjective statements are not part of philosophy, any more than they are part of science or math. It is not mathematics to say that you like the shape of the symbol for the number two.

If I say that a coconut was spontaneously created and simultaneously destroyed on the far side of the Andromeda Galaxy twelve million years ago, will you say that the statement is true? Will you say that it is false? I would lean towards “false,” for the simple reason that matter cannot be created and destroyed, and coconuts generally don’t exist in a vacuum. But who really cares? No proof is possible, no disproof is necessary, and the statement has no relevance to anything whatsoever.

I would also need to explain how I know about the mysterious coconut in the first place. If I cannot explain how it was proved to me, how can I expect other people to believe me?

An important standard in philosophy goes something like this: “WHO CARES?”

If a proposition has no practical value or benefit, changes no particular behaviour, or cannot be disproved, then we can definitively file it under the category of, well, who cares?

Philosophy is like medicine. In general, doctors should study the most dangerous and prevalent diseases, since human desires for health are infinite, while medical resources are most definitely finite. Sure, you could write a proposal for grant money in order to study the possibility that once every thousand years, someone may get dizzy from biting their thumbnail, but who cares?

When evaluating a philosophical hypothesis, one essential question is: What behaviour might change if people accept this viewpoint?

If I convince you that honesty is a virtue that would bring you love and happiness, then I certainly hope you would begin to tell the truth more often. If you accept the argument that courage is necessary for virtue, and virtue is necessary for happiness, then if you want happiness, presumably you will try to be more courageous.

An argument that cannot be disproved can be dismissed – this is our first salvo against the idea that all reality is subjective.

I prefer victory to stalemate, however, so let us destroy the argument once and for all.

The “Infinite Simulation” Hypothesis

What if we lived in a simulation so perfect and complete that it was indistinguishable from the common-sense perspective that we live in an objective and empirical reality? This could be called an infinite simulation.

The infinite simulation hypothesis generally denies and defies any disproof, so it can have no rational change upon a person’s behaviour. If believing in this hypothesis resulted in the ability to go without food and air – since our requirement for both is a mere illusion – then this would lend support and value to the hypothesis. However, anyone who believes in such a hypothesis still has to breathe and eat, so nothing changes there.

As you pursue the infinite simulation hypothesis, you will find no practical difference between accepting the hypothesis and rejecting it. In other words, no requirements, standards or necessities change if you believe you are living in a simulation, versus living in objective reality.

It is reasonable to ask, “What changes if I accept this assertion?” If the answer is, “Nothing really,” then surely more important things need to be done.

Naturally – and logically – this does not automatically disprove the hypothesis, but it does bring to light the question of whether it is important at all.

Another approach is needed to disprove the hypothesis. The question of infinite regression is important here.

If you think of the concept of biological evolution, it cannot be arbitrarily cut off after a certain number of generations. If evolution is a valid hypothesis, then it must extend all the way back to the origins of life itself. One central aspect to the theory of evolution is that no gods are needed for the development and progression of life. It would have done Charles Darwin little good to say that evolution was a universal principle that went back 5,000 years – but before that, life required a god. (In fact, this would have put him squarely in line with most theologians, who fully recognize local adaptations to species – such as the domestication of wild animals for human purposes – but who believe that the beginning of life required God.)

The underlying axiom of the infinite simulation hypothesis is that consciousness inhabits a simulation imposed from outside. Now, this simulation cannot be autonomous in and of itself, but rather must be imposed by another consciousness, which exists outside our own.

The existence of a prisoner implies the existence of an imprisoner. If you have been hypnotized, this implies the existence of a hypnotist.

If you exist in an infinite simulation, then someone or something must be imposing that simulation upon you. Think of putting on a virtual reality mask. Someone created the mask, someone created the program you’d view, and so on. The existence of virtual reality presupposes the existence of at least one other consciousness that encases you in that virtual reality. If you are locked in a basement, someone made the basement and locked you in.

Do you see the problem yet?

If consciousness exists within virtual reality, then all conscious beings must exist within virtual reality. This is inescapable. If you are a brain in a tank, then someone grew your brain in the tank, attached the electrodes that give you the simulation of experience, and supplied the necessary energy and stimulation.

Furthermore, in your waking illusion, you continually interact with people smarter and more experienced than yourself, and read books supposedly written thousands of years ago – some in other languages – so you must be consuming the products of other consciousnesses.

Let’s call you “Bob,” and let’s call the super being who controls your experience “Lord Doug.”

For some unfathomable reasons of his own, Lord Doug grows a human brain called Bob, puts it in a tank, attaches electrodes, and supplies Bob with an “external, objective reality,” as well as an “internal, subjective experience.”

I’m sure you see the problem by now. If the argument is that Bob is in an infinite simulation, then why does the argument not equally apply that Lord Doug is also in an infinite simulation? If consciousness exists within a perfect simulation, then Lord Doug must also exist in a perfect simulation, since Lord Doug possesses consciousness.

Lord Doug’s infinite simulation experience also requires an external consciousness that applies this simulation. Let’s call this other consciousness “Sir Jim.” Naturally, Sir Jim also exists in a simulation, which requires an external consciousness to… Well, you get the idea. The problem of infinite regression destroys the validity of the hypothesis.

If all consciousness exists in an infinite simulation, and consciousness is required to create an infinite simulation, then there can be no logical end to the upward progression of infinite simulations… Mind A is wrapped in an infinite simulation by Mind B; Mind B is wrapped in an infinite simulation by Mind C, and so on.

You can, of course, say that Sir Jim exists in the “ultimate reality,” beyond which no creator of the simulation is required, because Sir Jim does not exist in a simulation.

By doing this, you have accepted that consciousness can exist in an objective reality. If this is true for Jim, then why is it not true for Doug or Bob – or for yourself?

By inventing Doug and Jim, all you have done is add additional useless layers of complexity and unbelievability – without even the intellectual integrity of a null hypothesis – to the simple statement that consciousness exists in objective reality.

Also, since your simulated reality includes the contents and productions – books, movies and conversations – of billions of other minds, then the simulation cannot possibly be the product of one single mind. Those who advance this theory may try to get around this problem by claiming that the manufacturer of the simulated reality is omniscient. But appeals to magical non-restrictions are not an argument. The label “omniscient” is not a concept, but an anti-concept. All consciousness is limited. Removing limitations removes the very definition of consciousness. Likewise, all life is mortal. The word “immortal” is not a concept, but an anti-concept, since it simply removes one of the definitions and restrictions of life itself. A house is a house, not the destruction of a house. A concept is a concept, not the destruction of a concept.

Also, we generally accept that knowing everything would include knowing everything about morality. Omniscience, by definition, would involve some relationship to virtue, and in particular to empathy, since an all-knowing being would know exactly how much pain immoral actions would cause others. Therefore, an omniscient being would also be perfectly moral, which would mean: unwilling to lie. However, since a “simulated reality” is a metaphysical falsehood inflicted upon a helpless and unaware victim, it is the worst conceivable lie and manipulation.

Omniscience would thus equal terrifying and demonic sadism, which would also mean that increases in knowledge would be increases in evil. An increase in empathy would be an increase in sadism, and greater knowledge would provoke greater immorality.

If someone advances such a theory to you, he is clearly trying to increase your knowledge. However, since the theory requires an omniscient being to be utterly evil, he is arguing that increasing knowledge increases evil, and so you can reject him on the grounds that he is trying to make you more evil by giving you more knowledge.

If he replies that more knowledge does not make you more evil, then he cannot claim that your consciousness is manipulated by an infinitely knowledgeable and infinitely sadistic being.

If he replies that more knowledge makes you more virtuous, then he cannot claim that your consciousness is manipulated by an infinitely knowledgeable and infinitely sadistic being, since infinite knowledge implies infinite virtue, and lying to innocent victims is not virtuous.

Also, there is the general problem of why an omniscient being would bother creating such a ridiculous laboratory. Why would it spend its entire energies and efforts manipulating one mortal creature? If the omniscient being is virtuous, it would never create such a lie. If the omniscient being is evil, despite all the contradictions outlined above, how could it possibly profit from creating such a delusion? Certainly there could be no material profit; the only profit could be watching suffering. However, if the omniscient being has created the simulation for the sole purpose of taking sadistic pleasure in watching suffering, then why do so much joy and pleasure exist within the simulation? Why are there love and sex and the thrill of victory?

None of it makes any sense, of course.

Even if we bypass the problems of omniscience, virtue and motive, we still face the problem of infinite regression in causality.

If you say that all consciousnesses live in a simulated reality controlled by an external consciousness, then you have not solved the problem of causality. If every consciousness is manipulated by an external outsider, then no one is causing anything. Everyone is just bouncing off the random stimuli provided by their external mental jailer. Who, then, decided to set all of these events and experiments in motion? It’s like the argument that says, if consciousness exists, it must have been created. Whoever created the consciousness also has a consciousness and therefore must have been created. This is the problem of infinite regression, and it cannot be solved by ignoring it (although that is often attempted).

If consciousness can exist in objective reality, then the simplest and most rational explanation is that your consciousness exists in objective reality. You don’t even need the principle of Occam’s razor – that the simplest explanation is usually the best – just some basic common sense.

If you accept that consciousness can exist in objective reality, then you don’t need non-falsifiable pseudo-explanations of additional layers of manipulated unreality and hidden external consciousnesses, and so on.

You either face the problem of infinite regression – meaning infinite universes, infinite energy, and no original causality whatsoever – or you accept that we do not exist in a simulation.

We exist in objective reality – you and I, and everyone else – and that is all there is to it.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is just trying to mess with your head, inject you with crazy talk, and possibly ruin your life.

Argue back, try to save them – and if they steadfastly resist, run for your very life!

Validating the Senses

One reason why the infinite simulation hypothesis is so seductive is because there is an element of truth in the formulation. We are brains in a tank – the “tank” is just our skull. Our minds have no direct contact with the empirical reality external to our brains.

When we really think about this, it’s easy to start feeling weird. Everything we perceive is at least second hand. Our brain cannot squeeze itself out our nose and vacation in the land of objective reality, like a jellyfish feeling up a tree. Everything we perceive about reality is delivered to us through the senses – and the emotions, of course.

If you lived in a cave, without a clock, how long would it take you to lose track of day and night? After a couple weeks, how much would you be willing to bet whether it was day or night? If you are one of those lucky people with a strict biological clock of diurnal schedules, going to bed and waking up at about the same time, you would have a pretty good idea. But for most of us, our sleep would drift to the point where we wouldn’t have any idea whether we were sleeping during day or night.

Imagine being born blind in a village of sightless people, isolated from the world. Imagine all the things you wouldn’t know about. You wouldn’t know about the moon or the stars; you wouldn’t know what a distant mountaintop looked like – or even that it existed. You may not have any clear idea what the tops of trees looked like, and would have no idea about the structure of clouds. You would notice that it rained sometimes, but you wouldn’t know anything visual about high stratospheric cloud formations. You would (hopefully) never experience meteors. And the occasional airplane flying high above may only register with your ears, not your eyes.

This list could go on and on, but the point is to recognize how many of our concepts require the evidence of the senses. If you were deaf, but not blind, you would look at a distant airplane and have no idea whether it made sound or not. Since the flight of high-flying birds is inaudible, perhaps the same would be true of airplanes as well. How would you know?

Most of what goes on in our mind is derived from electrical impulses delivered by the senses. “Reality” is a consistent electrical storm imprinted on our minds by nerve endings in our bodies. In a sense, we are like a king locked in a castle with no windows, who learns about his kingdom only through a constant stream of messengers entering his prison through secret doors.

The mind generally receives – it does not transmit. Centuries ago, some thinkers argued that the eyes sent out rays or beams, like radar, and received visual echolocation back. However, our eyes only receive; they do not transmit. We can reach with our hands to manipulate reality, but our senses operate as inputs only. Our ears also only receive. We can receive sensations through our skin – we cannot send sensations through our skin.

Naturally, a central question of epistemology – the study of knowledge – is whether the information we receive from our senses is valid.

Now “valid” is just another word for “accurate” or “true,” which brings us back to the basic question – what is truth?

As discussed before, “truth” is a statement about objective reality that conforms with the nature and principles of objective reality. If I say that there is a cloud overhead, my statement is true if there is in fact a cloud overhead.

This requirement for objective reality as a standard of truth can be challenging for some who believe that their own internal states have a truth or falsehood about them.

It is true, for example, that I felt sad yesterday; it is true that I feel happy today. It is true that I love my wife, that I study the truth, and that I hate evil.

It is worth spending a few moments to deal with this question of internal states before moving on to the validity of the senses, because emotions are an essential aspect of how we effectively process and deal with reality.

Knowing you feel strongly about something is essential for focus and motivation – as long as you know that experiencing your feelings is not the same as knowing the truth. Wanting to diet is not the same as actually dieting – though it is an essential first step.

It is important to know when you are angry at someone – and it is equally important to know that your anger does not automatically make that person wrong or bad. In the modern world, emotions are often perceived as accurate judgements, a belief that unleashes a feral mob more often than not. Emotions are usually expressed as all-important accusations – but the conclusions drawn from them need to be proved in the court of reason before being accepted as valid. Philosophy without emotions is random and inconsequential; emotions without philosophy are wayward and destructive.

The question of “love” is fascinating. Emotions do not exist outside the body, in the objective external world. A man’s love for learning may cause him to build a school; the school certainly exists outside his body, but his love for learning does not. That feeling lives within him and dies with him, though the school survives him.

This is not to say that love is an entirely subjective state. As was established in my earlier book, Real-Time Relationships: The Logic of Love, what we call “love” is merely our involuntary response to virtue, if we are virtuous.

The experience of love releases certain endorphins in the mind and body, which can be objectively measured. We have a subjective experience called “lust,” which also provokes measurable biological responses in our body. If a man says he is not sexually attracted to a certain image, but his body manifests an erection, we have reason to doubt his protestations.

Also, it is reasonable to accept that the emotion of love does not produce random behaviours in the person experiencing it. If I say that I love a restaurant, but never want to eat there, what does that mean? If I say that I love playing sports, but sit on the couch every spare minute I have, am I being honest? If I say that I love my wife, but divorce her for no particular reason, do my actions support my use of the world “love”?

Of course, we can always construct scenarios wherein I love a restaurant, but never want to eat there because it is too far away, too expensive, or I am allergic to the food. But assuming I have the means, motive and an opportunity to eat at a restaurant I claim to love, yet I never want to do it, something is wrong with my claim.

Remember, empirical evidence trumps conceptual hypotheses – every time.

If I say I love spending time with a particular friend, but I shudder and recoil every time he proposes a get-together, surely we understand that there is a contradiction between my claimed feelings and my measurable actions.

Think of two professional wrestlers engaged in a public trash-talking hate-fest, who are later seen amicably eating dinner together after a match, giggling and cleaning out the buffet. Would we say their hate is genuine, or that it is part of an entertaining show put on to sell tickets?

In other words, there are ways to objectively measure the empirical effects of subjective experiences. If love is claimed, but hatred or indifference is objectively measured, then it is reasonable to question the sincerity of the claim.

Our judgements should work the same way our bodies work. Our bodies process deeds, not words. If I want to lose weight, I can say the word “diet” over and over again while chewing my way through a cheesecake, but my body will only respond to what I eat, not what I say.

Repeatedly yodeling the word “exercise” works little but my lungs. Actually going to the gym will affect my body.

If someone pulls out your fingernails, you experience pain. Perhaps you are a masochist who enjoys the feeling, but it is pain nonetheless. Its physiological effects can be objectively measured in your body.

Thus, while emotions are somewhat subjective, the effects of them can often be measured objectively.

On the Senses

Regarding our five senses, it is certainly true that each individual sense can be misinterpreted. This does not invalidate the senses as a whole.

There is a reason we evolved to have five senses, rather than just one or two. Judging reality via only one sense is like looking at 20 percent of the night sky and decisively determining whether the moon is out or not.

When you put a pencil into a glass of water, it looks disjointed. However, it is important to remember that our eyes do not provide us with conclusions, merely information. Our eyes do not inform us about the straightness of the pencil; they merely provide the light waves to our brain. Our sense of touch can tell us more. If we run our finger down the pencil, past the waterline, we can feel that it is not disjointed, and we realize that the water is merely bending the light waves where the surface meets the pencil.

Similarly, we may believe that a distant image of water in the desert is not a mirage, but a real lake. Our eyes do not tell us whether a lake exists in the distance; they merely transmit light waves to our brain. If we run forward through the blinding heat and find no actual lake, we understand that we have been subject to an illusion, which is another way of saying we came to the wrong conclusion about the evidence gleaned from only one sense – in this case, our eyesight. Our eyes are not to blame for the error, but our mind. Not the raw data, but our refined conclusions.

However, if we walk forward and find a lake that we can swim in and drink from, then we no longer have any reason to believe that the lake is a mirage – for the simple reason that all of our five senses confirm its existence – in other words, the consistent properties of a lake.

One of the reasons we have more than one sense is that it takes our senses acting in concert, reinforcing each other, to establish facts about objective reality.

We’ve all had the experience of walking through a room in the darkness and banging our shin on a table. We walk confidently, thinking we are avoiding obstacles, but our confidence is disproved by the sudden pain in our leg. Here, our eyes do not transmit any indication of the table, but our sense of touch – and of pain – gives us the truth.

There are three distinct classes of sense perception: the perception of absence, as in an open door; the perception of inconsistency, as in a mirage; and the perception of consistency, as in a lake.

In other words, things are either not there, they are perhaps there, or they are really there. When you look ahead in the desert, you see either sand, a mirage, or a lake. Sand is the absence of a lake, the mirage is the possibility of a lake, while the lake is the thing itself.

These perceptions – no impression on the senses, inconsistent impression on the senses, or consistent impression on the senses – are the differences between absence, illusion and presence.

When I look ahead on a hot road while driving, I can say that the road ahead is wet and full of puddles. But as I drive closer, they all disappear and no water sprays from the sides of my tires.

Because my original claim that the road ahead was wet did not match additional sense details – as I got closer, the “wetness” disappeared – my original hypothesis was false.

It was false because I claimed to be making an objective statement about external reality, not about my own subjective perception.

If I say, “The road ahead looks wet to me,” then I am not making a claim about external reality – that the road is actually wet – but rather reporting my own subjective experience of looking down the road.

This transition between the description of personal experience, and the identification of objective fact, is the difference between anecdote and data.

Women are generally shorter than men. Reporting the fact that you know a tall woman just throws static into the music of math.

Objectivity and Honesty

Saying that something looks wet to me, if it really does, is an honest statement. Saying that something is wet, just because it looks wet to me, is a hypothesis. If I see water drops on my window, and I say that I see water drops on my window, I am telling the truth. However, if I see water drops on my window and I say that it is raining, that is a hypothesis. It may have finished raining, or my window may have been hit by water from a sprinkler or a car wash – or from just about anything else for that matter.

The failure to understand or act upon the difference between personal experience and objective hypothesis is catastrophic. But people mistake their personal feelings for objective facts all the time. Someone feels offended and they assume the offender is offensive. Feeling offended is the experience – someone being offensive is a hypothesis that needs to be proved.

The chasm between feeling and proof is fertile ground for manipulative sophists.

Someone makes you angry, so you assume that the instigator is aggressive. You fall in love, and you assume that the object of your affection is wonderful, virtuous and trustworthy. A politician offers you something for free; you assume he is a generous statesman.

Feelings transmit from person to person when we pretend they are objective. This turns them into a form of virus that spreads by mimicking reality. If I can get you to jump to the same conclusions that I’ve come to about reality, based upon my own subjective experiences, then you are much more likely to experience the same emotions that I do. If I am afraid of redheaded people and I can convince you that they are objectively dangerous, then you will also become afraid of redheaded people. My irrational fear has camouflaged itself as objective fact and thus transmitted itself to you.

Ideologies also spread this way. They primarily transmit themselves through emotions rather than reasoned arguments and evidence. If I can convince you that rich people only have money because they have stolen it from you, then you will resent rich people and support using the power of the state to take money from them and give it to you – with me as the highly profitable arbitrator, of course.

If you can convince women that they have been oppressed, beaten, raped and controlled throughout history, then they will inevitably feel anger and resentment towards men. One individual woman’s potentially just anger against one individual man – perhaps her father – gets transmitted throughout the culture using the medium of other susceptible women. Then claims of “sexism” end up being reproduced as very real sexism – against all men.

If you say, “I am angry at a man,” then that is an honest and accurate statement. However, if you say, “I am angry at all men, because all men are oppressive,” then that is a dishonest and inaccurate hyperbole.

This is how anger spreads like a virus.

You own your feelings, which are often highly susceptible to your perceptions. Since perceptions can very easily be wrong, assuming your feelings are mere reflections of perfectly accurate perceptions is a highly shaky stance to take – and very dangerous, should you prove to be wrong.

Philosophy and Subjectivity

Philosophy is the methodology that helps you determine the difference between subjective experiences and objective facts. We need philosophy precisely because mistaking our subjective experiences for objective facts is so easy.

A tree cannot be incorrect, sunlight cannot be erroneous, water cannot take a wrong turn, and fungus cannot be immoral. Truth and falsehood exist as distinct states in only one entity in the universe that we know of: the human mind.

Truth is a state that results when a concept matches an entity or a hypothesis matches the facts of reality.

Truth always refers to concepts or language and the degree to which they match what exists and occurs in objective reality. If I point at a mug and say it is a telephone, we cannot fix my statement by replacing the mug with a telephone. If I call the mug a “telephone,” I am incorrect, because my word does not match what I’m pointing at.

The standard of truth refers not only to the relationship between concepts and objects, but also to concepts about the relationships between objects, such as gravity or magnetism. If I say that “gravity repels,” then I am incorrect; my language does not match the true relationship between mass and gravity. If I say that “magnetism can pull down a tree,” then I am equally incorrect.

The relationship between concepts in the mind and matter or energy in the world is the relationship we refer to as “truth.”

Concepts and Entities

As we grow from infancy, we notice that certain objects in our world exhibit consistent characteristics. Chocolate is sweet, water quenches our thirst, carpets are softer than hardwood, and crayons taste terrible.

We are able to develop accurate conceptual nets to cast around similar objects, so to speak, because those objects have similar or identical characteristics.

The stability of objects and properties in the world is the foundation for the accuracy of our concepts.

If you tried to develop a physics of dreaming, you would quickly realize what an impossible task that would be. When we dream, objects, their properties and the physical laws that govern them change continually and sometimes, it would seem, randomly. Can you imagine trying to play a game of chess where the rules for your various pieces changed continually – and the pieces

shifted shape as well? What would it mean to play such a game, let alone win it? In debates, there is a logical fallacy known as “moving the goalposts,” wherein your opponent demands you prove X, and when you do, he then demands you prove Y instead, or in addition. You cannot win such debates, because the rules keep changing – the only way to win is not to play.

Objects in the world are consistent for two basic reasons – the first is the existence of atoms, and the second is the existence of stable physical laws. The atoms that make up a feather possess different characteristics than the atoms that make up a bowling ball. The atoms that make up water are different from the atoms that make up arsenic. Atoms are subject to stable physical laws, which result in consistent object behaviour, information about which our senses then transmit to our brains.

Milk that looks fair may taste foul – our eyesight says it is healthy, our taste buds report its danger. The skin of a shark feels smooth rubbing from head to tail – going the other way reveals the direction of its tiny barbs.

In other words, we have valid concepts because of the consistency of both atomic behaviour and physical laws. (This will be referred to as atomic consistency from now on, for efficiency.)

Since our concepts describe the behaviour of matter and energy, and the behaviour of matter and energy is consistent, our concepts, to be valid – to be true – must also be consistent.

Empirical reality is not self-contradictory – at least at the realm of the senses, where philosophy operates. The realm of quantum mechanics is interesting, of course, but does not impact the realm of philosophy, because quantum phenomena cancels out long before we get to the aggregate realm of sense perception.

A rock is a rock, and not a cloud, fire, or the concept of “rock.” An elephant is not its shadow, the letter e or a lizard.

An entity cannot be both a living animal and a fossil at the same time.

Relations between entities also cannot be self-contradictory. Gravity and magnetism cannot both repel and attract at the same time, a car cannot move both north and south at the same time, and a ball cannot simultaneously fall towards the ground and rise away from it.

Thus, the properties and relations of entities in reality cannot be self-contradictory – if they appear so, this is due to an erroneous conclusion in our mind. A colour-blind man may report that a rainbow is composed of differing shades of grey, but he would be incorrect because of a deficiency in his eyes. A deaf woman may wonder why people are dancing to mere vibrations, but of course the silence only feels real because of a deficiency in her ears.

Reality is rational and consistent, and valid concepts describe reality – therefore, true and valid concepts must be rational and consistent. A tomato cannot be both a tomato and a beach ball at the same time – thus any concept that requires such a contradiction is naturally invalid.

Science – which describes a consistent, universal and rational reality – must itself be consistent, rational and universal.

Philosophical arguments, which establish truth regarding objective and rational reality, must themselves be objective and rational.

Concepts and Validity

In relation to truth, there are three categories of concepts – valid, potentially valid, and invalid.

A valid and true concept is one that has been verified and established, both by its internal rational consistency, and by its consistency with empirical observations. The idea that the earth is a sphere, rather than flat, is not internally self-contradictory. No one is saying that the earth is both a sphere and flat at the same time. And its roundness has been consistently verified through empirical observations, both on the surface of the earth and in space.

The concept that airplanes can fly is validated by the laws of physics, as well as by the empirical observation – available every day – that airplanes do indeed fly.

The concept that human beings are mortal is validated by the laws of biology, as well by as the empirical observation – available every day – that all human beings eventually die.

These are valid concepts.

Potentially valid concepts are those for which there is no empirical evidence, but no internal self-contradiction either. For instance, the idea that silicone, rather than carbon, could be used as the basis for a living organism is not internally self-contradictory, but there is no evidence as yet of a silicone-based life form. The position that intelligent life could exist on other planets is not internally self-contradictory, but no evidence as yet exists to prove this hypothesis.

Invalid concepts are those that are self-contradictory, and thus can never accurately describe atomic consistency. One example of a self-contradictory concept is the “square circle,” which cannot exist because the characteristics of squares and those of circles contradict each other.

Another example of a self-contradictory entity is the concept of “consciousness without matter.”

We never directly encounter consciousness in the absence of a brain. Empirically, no evidence exists to support the idea that consciousness can exist without matter – and all the evidence supports the reality that consciousness is an effect of matter, specifically the matter (and energy) that composes the human brain.

Could consciousness exist without matter somewhere in the universe?

Certainly not, for the following reasons. Consciousness is an effect of matter, since it requires the physical structure of the brain. Since consciousness is the effect of a physical brain, requiring consciousness without matter would be to require an effect without its proximate cause. Gravity is an effect of matter, of mass – this is by definition and proof, not mere observation. Can we have gravity in the absence of matter? Of course not – again, by definition, hypothesis and empirical observation. Since gravity is an effect of matter, it therefore cannot exist in the absence of matter.

Another way of looking at it is to think of a shadow – a shadow is an effect of opaque mass and light. Can we have a shadow with neither light, nor a mass to block it?

Of course not.

Can we have a sound without a source of that sound? Can we have light without a light source? Of course not.

Consciousness is an effect of matter – of the physical brain, specifically – and therefore cannot exist in the absence of a brain.

Philosophy, Discomfort and Decisiveness

Such decisiveness in philosophy makes many people uncomfortable. Their immediate mental objective becomes to find some break in the rule, some exception to disprove any and all proposed objective standards.

This is entirely natural, because we often feel that we can release ourselves from obligations to obey or disseminate a rule, if we can find even the tiniest exception to its commandments.

This is the realm of foggy boundaries that confuses even the most consistent thinkers.

If you are drawn to imagining some scenario in which consciousness can exist without matter – even to the point of imagining alternative universes – this is because it provokes emotional anxiety within you to understand that the argument could be so simple.

We can certainly make the unsupported statement that consciousness can exist without matter, and dismiss the argument above – but this lacks intellectual honesty and integrity.

When we feel anxious, the most honest statement we can make is that we feel anxious. Making the anxiety “go away” by inventing some anti-rational magic to dispel the uncomfortable feeling brought about by an assertive argument is dishonest and destructive.

It is entirely understandable, of course, both historically and biologically. Human tribes have always been full of the most anti-rational nonsense – the contradiction of which often provoked either physical or genetic death. Rational thinkers are often targeted for murder, ostracism or de-platforming.

The moment that a dangerously rational idea enters our mind, our anti-rational immune system often attacks it as a foreign, dangerous object in order to protect our capacity for tribal cooperation and genetic reproduction.

Thus, it is entirely natural for you to feel anxiety – and perhaps even hostility – towards a rational argument that may put you in conflict with tribal prejudices. However, let us at least be honest enough to admit that we are anxious and not pretend that the proposed argument is magically invalid.

Materialism and Determinism

The great danger of a materialistic approach to the senses and to objective reality is the hollowing out of free will.

Traditionally, the question of free will has been answered theologically, rather than philosophically. According to most theology, there is an immaterial seat of consciousness within the body called the soul, which is immune to mere physical restrictions – and it is the soul that generates consciousness and free will within the mind.

Creating an immaterial repository of consciousness that is unaffected by the physical domino- causality of matter and energy has generally allowed for the maintenance of the free-will position – however, this “proof” of free will remains philosophically unsatisfying.

Why is this so important?

Without free will, there is no such thing as philosophy. We do not attempt to cultivate wisdom in inanimate objects.

This proves nothing about free will, of course, but clearly reveals the stakes.

Without free will, there is no such thing as personal responsibility, no need or capacity for ethics, and no possibility for loving virtue or opposing evil – since virtue and vice remain delusions. When we stop believing in ghosts, we stop worrying about haunted houses and no longer fear the vengeance of the dead. (The idea of vengeful ghosts was a desperate attempt by more primitive cultures to limit murders – as was the concept of hell – by implanting a fear of consequences that had no relationship to actually being caught by secular authorities.)

In general, the determinist position runs as follows:

Free will is a superstition left over from more religious mindsets. Before we understood the Darwinian origins of the species, we imagined that a God breathed life into clay.

Before we understood astronomy, we imagined that the stars were distant fireflies that wheeled around a static earth. The idea that blind matter and energy can somehow coalesce into a consciousness that defies all the restrictions of matter and energy is ridiculous. A rock does not have free will, the sun does not have free will, your arm does not have free will – only your brain, apparently magically, does. Alone in the universe – an infinitesimally small fraction of the matter and energy contained in the universe – the human brain is able to overleap and escape the inevitable restrictions of matter and energy that apply to every other single atom in the universe. If those who believe in free will wish to create a magical exception for the human brain, and make it exempt from the laws of physics that apply both to the human brain and everything else, then they are making an extraordinary claim. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, and none have been provided by those with a mad faith in the magic of free will. In primitive times, mankind felt special because an all-seeing God oversaw an unmoving earth. The earth was the exception to everything else in the universe, because everything else moved. How is the idea that our brains are magically different from everything else in the universe any different from the idea that the earth is magically different from everything else? How exactly does the brain exempt itself from physical laws? The only answer appears to be a bottomless thirst for imaginary choice, a desperate need to feel special, and a darker desire to punish people for their imaginary transgressions – “You had a choice, and you made the wrong choice, so you must be punished!”

These arguments certainly have the ring of consistency to them. How could it be rational to create an exception to the universal laws of physics just for the human brain? We do not see or experience even the idea of free will among animals, among nature, among inanimate objects – how are we so different? The answer that we possess a soul is not satisfying to those who reject immaterial explanations for material causes. If a child denies stealing a cookie and claims that his imaginary friend ate it instead, few parents would accept such an explanation.