Nice Arram, thanks. I was just thinking the other day about how nice it would be if more people spent time once in a while refining their thoughts into an essay rather than barfing up conjectures as blog posts.
Interestingly, it may be that Heisenberg uncertainly requires that if you extract all of the information out of Riker in order to reform him, you must necessarily destroy the original Riker, saving you a bullet. (IANAP, _obviously_).
Agreed that you couldn't actually get a perfect copy (e.g. exchanging accuracy in momentum information for accuracy in position information), but it really doesn't matter. You change on a more dramatic scale when you go from a cold room to a warm room, or when you scrape your elbow, etc. Details at that scale are pretty irrelevant to you.
Actually I think it moves away from philosophy at this point and becomes a question of practicality- at what point in a detailed copy is it "close enough to be you"? As humans (and with the rest of life) we're in that weird state between being totally static (like a frozen crystal) and being completely chaotic (like the center of the sun) - at the "edge of chaos" so to speak. Life is in that border-land where it's just stable enough and yet just chaotic enough. So when the temperature of the room changes there are atoms and systems that adjust within us in order that certain critical atomic structures stay in-tact. It's like a controlled slide into chaos- chunks being stable enough for just long enough to create other small islands of somewhat-stability.
If it turns out that the thing critical to our being is deep within our neurons, and that the computations that take place are similar to quantum computing and rely on sub-atomic processes, and that the rest of the body (among other things) keeps its environment stable enough to "keep state," then the machine needed to copy the mind would end up destroying the original. Or, if it doesn't read atomic information at that level of detail, the "copy" will have a similar infrastructure but will instantly be divergent from the original because the "current" thoughts of the original will not have copied.
I mean, putting aside philosophy and actually getting down to the brass tacks so we can start building this machine. (:
You're talking about his quantum tubules theory of consciousness. Honestly, I think it's coming from the same emotional agenda that made Geocentrism and later Vitalism so popular. It's just the latest philosophical secret sauce.
Besides, that's just trying to explain qualia. Pretty sure no one thinks memories are quantum phenomena.
Actually Penrose isn't so much interested in qualia as he is in things mathematicians can do, but which Turing machines cannot (from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantum_mind - "Penrose is not interested in explaining phenomenal consciousness, qualia, generally regarded as the most mysterious feature of consciousness, but instead focuses mainly on the cognitive powers of mathematicians").
If I have closed timelike curves, an oracle for the halting problem, or the ability to perform arbitrary computations on real numbers in my brain, I would certainly like to know how to use them.
For those of you who haven't seen it, the movie The Prestige (IMDB: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0482571/) deals with this topic of transient existence of people, albeit in the context of magicians and science. It's a very good movie, to boot.
Yea, I was excited when I first saw that movie. The main character completely failed to understand what was going on: "Would I be the one transported, or the one in the tank?" He was both, but the selection bias of being able to ask that question would make him seem very lucky.
"Some say our memories are what make us us, but basic physics dictate that our memory has finite capacity. New memories supplant the old and the strongest are those recalled and refreshed frequently. Given a thousand years to live, you could conceivably forget everything you now know. Personal history is a revolving door."
Some people have a weird condition where they remember EVERYTHING from a certain point in their lives, they never forget anything. I'm sure they have a finite amount of memory, but it's so big it's infinite in practice.
Identity is indeed elusive. I tend to think of myself as a process too, i.e. a braid of selfupdating information embedded in space-time (did that make any sense? (-: ).
What puzzles me the most is the permanence of identity despite the siscontinuity of the conscious experience. Why and how am I still the same person in the morning than I was when I fell asleep?
One could argue that the abundant neural activity that happens during the night preservres yourself...
What about deep phenobarbital-induced general anesthesia, which induces a flat EEG? No more neural activity... Your self is preserved through the "structural" properties of your brain.
Which leads me to another point: the structure/function distinction is a false dichotomy, an artefact of the human thinking process. The concept isn't new for the many Lisp hackers around here, but the idea can be extended to the organisation of the universe. The (neuro)psychologist's structure is the neurologist's function. Recurse up to elementary particles whose dual wave/particle nature has been extensively documented.
Physics will not be complete until the nature of subjectivity is understood. It may never be complete, for that matter.
Reminds me of Feynman's "The Value of Science" speech:
"For instance, the scientific article says, perhaps, something like this: "The radioactive phosphorus content of the cerebrum of the rat decreases to one-half in a period of two weeks." Now, what does that mean?
"It means that phosphorus that is in the brain of a rat (and also in mine, and yours) is not the same phosphorus as it was two weeks ago, but that all of the atoms that are in the brain are being replaced, and the ones that were there before have gone away.
"So what is this mind, what are these atoms with consciousness? Last week's potatoes! That is what now can remember what was going on in my mind a year ago -- a mind which has long ago been replaced.
"This is what it means when one discovers how long it takes for the atoms of the brain to be replaced by other atoms, to note that the thing which I call my individuality is only a pattern or dance. The atoms come into my brain, dance a dance, then go out; always new atoms but always doing the same dance, remembering what the dance was yesterday."
If you're looking for a good introductory book to some of the buddhist/taoist/zen concepts touched upon in this article, I highly recommend Alan Watts' books.
It's a collection of lectures that he gave over a decade or so, in the 60s. It introduces most of the really important concepts of eastern philosophy.
This book provides a nice follow-up to the previous one, with a much more complete, detailed, academic view of the topics, which helps gain a better understanding of it all:
The OP presents a conceptual, ontological claim ("...that all things lack absolute identity and are interdependent."), whereas in Buddhist practice, it refers to the experience of looking for some inherent existence, and seeing nothing. It's not an ontological issue in that context: There could actually be an absolute identity, but it would have no bearing on the practice.
Alan Watts only ever confused me. These two guys made it a whole lot clearer for me. (Particularly Ken. I consider him my teacher.)
Really interesting article. Sunyata makes me think of string theory for some reason.
To give another perspective on 'we are not matter', we can view ourselves as a configuration of atoms.
And if you zoom in more, those atoms (carbon, hydrogen etc.) are just different configurations of electrons, protons and neutrons.
At the end of the day, string theory zooms in even more and says that those particles are made of just one thing - a 'string'. And the different particles are manifestations of strings vibrating w/ different energies and patterns (like how a musical instrument makes different notes w/ different vibrations).
That idea paints the universe as as one grand orchestra. Each string not really different from the next (fungibility) and somewhat interdependent. In short, Sunyata.
This sort of question about the difference between a copy of you continuing to exist, and you yourself (the original "copy") continuing to exist; whenever I see this question in its various forms, I wonder if the question is being truly sincerely asked.
The obvious and meaningful answer is that the experience you have is of the total end of all further experience. Death. One or even a thousand completely perfect copies of you living onward in the universe is no comfort when the consciousness that started the whole game is not around to experience it.
Or in more simple form,
If you put someone to sleep, and haul them across a room, and then they wake up, this is totally different from writing down their entire molecuar composition, burning their atoms to a cinder, and then reconstituting said molecular composition on the other side of the room. What wakes up is not you. You are a burnt ash in the wastebin.
The truly fascinating question no one is discussing is: since our consciousness is made up of a vast combination of distinct physical parts, it could one day be possible to slowly replace those parts with artificial parts, with the transition from 100% original to 100% new parts being a transition in phases so small that the consciousness is never interrupted. The resulting being is YOU, but at the end, all of what was you is gone.
Addendum: People who have suffered severe trauma and lost large sections of the brain have managed to live. If the substrate of the mind in question was an artificial system that can deal with such traumatic removals of core pieces, is there some cross section of the constituent parts of the human mind that you could sever in half and end up with two distinct yet continuously conscious entities?
How about this: with every breath, you inhale a million billion billion atoms of oxygen. When you exhale, these atoms take a couple of years to be uniformly mixed in the atmosphere. Chances are you a breathing oxygen that was once in the lungs of, say, Shakespeare! (though, also, in dog farts).
Before that, this same oxygen was created by fusion in the inside of a star, which died so we could live.
The observation that boundaries of things are arbitrary is also important to materialist dialectics. Quote Leon Trotsky: "In reality a pound of sugar is never equal to a pound of sugar—a more delicate scale always discloses a difference. Again one can object: but a pound of sugar is equal to itself. Neither is this true—all bodies change uninterruptedly in size, weight, colour, etc. They are never equal to themselves."
The exact number is a little controversial, but there's pretty universal agreement that most of your cells wear out, die, and are replaced within your life time. I didn't elaborate, because though it's useful for illustration, my point doesn't really depend on it - even if we had the same cells throughout our lives, we could swap them out one by one and still be us.
Interestingly, it may be that Heisenberg uncertainly requires that if you extract all of the information out of Riker in order to reform him, you must necessarily destroy the original Riker, saving you a bullet. (IANAP, _obviously_).