De Novo

In his blog series “A programmer’s view of the universe”, Google engineer Steve Yegge is exploring the ontological insights gained in his years writing software.  His first post told the sad story of a pet fish who died after discovering the nature and limits of its own captivity, its tank, while looking out through the glass walls to a world it could never reach.  His latest post uses the video game Mario Kart to explore the concept of embedded system, where the player controls drivers who race around a track inside a universe completely contained within the computer, but with the illusion of a landscape that stretches off into the horizon.  Here he introduces the concept of the one-way wall, which the players butt up against, for example, when attempting to drive too far off the track.  The rules of the game keep the players safely within prescribed boundaries; the game software itself can monitor and control all activity within the simulated game world, but the game cannot “see into” the containing world outside its confines.

Yegge is probably fully aware of the well-worn philosophical implications of this line of inquiry; he is, after all, a self-proclaimed fan of Douglas Hofstadter, whose almost mystical ruminations on the nature of recursion and embeddedness in Gödel, Escher, Bach are a metaphysical classic in the computer-geek canon.  Seeing oneself as a creature in an embedded system attempting to perceive the workings of the “outer system” – to look through the one-way-wall the other way – has forever been a preoccupation of intelligent and spiritually-inclined seekers.

I would submit, contra Baudrillard, that while we denizens of the internet may today experience an unprecedented degree of abstraction, humanity has never inhabited a space other than one populated by self-created simulacra, and that indeed, the simulacrum has always been the very nature of the worldview of every individual who has ever lived.  For the human brain is itself an embedded system, fed information through a one-way wall (our sensory input) and developing a model of the world outside to the best of our abilities and according to our internal propensities.

Human communities are also an embedded system, one in which individuals reside, and they share a pool of common assumptions about the world (myths) and the “rules” by which we participate in it, refining and elaborating on the individual’s innate sense of right and wrong.  Much like cells organizing themselves in a human body, or ants in a colony, all of human civilization and culture — indeed all human achievement — is built up of thousands of individual decisions within a socially prescribed rule system.  Such self-emergent organization — whereby progressively more complex, richly varied systems construct themselves from a few basic rules — is very appealing to computer geeks, who can create such embedded systems on their computers with just a few lines of recursive code, like this 1-dimensional cellular automaton:

This ties into a conversation I was having the other day with a colleague who had just finished reading another computer-geek classic, Ray Kurzweil’s The Singularity is Near.  Kurzweil’s work of Utopian fantasy is popular among geeks, since it promises a future world (not too distant, either: according to his projections, within the next 50 years) in which technology will become sufficiently advanced that computer intelligence will outpace human intelligence.

What happens beyond this point is impossible to say, but according to Kurzweil’s theory, machine intelligence will recursively create new machines with rapidly accelerating intelligence, which may (among other things) provide capabilities for human immortality, interstellar space travel, or perhaps even, one day, create nanobots that will transform the nature of matter and reality so that all matter will reach a point of “supersaturation” in which the entire universe becomes a gigantic supercomputer.  This event is called the singularity, also known as “nerd rapture”.

To which I replied: What if the singularity has already happened?  How would you know?

Singularity speculation (in its modern form) began in 1965 with J. L. Good, but was eagerly adopted in the post-psychedelic era by early transhumanist and Harvard psychologist Dr. Timothy Leary in his eccentric 1979 book The Game of Life, in which he uses the Tarot, the I Ching, Kundalini Yoga, and various other esoteric traditions as metaphors for a projected evolution of life (and accompanying stages in the development of individual consciousness), beginning with single-celled organisms and progressing through fish, lizards, mammals, apes, primitive humans, early civilizations, monarchies, and monotheism, then stepping into increasingly liberated states of self-awareness, reality fabrication, DNA manipulation, and atomic, gravitational, and quantum manipulation, into the final payoff, fusion into a black hole, which in turn creates a new universe.  (Paul Davies also alludes to this possibility, that new universes could be spawned by sufficiently advanced technology.)

The key insight that Leary brings to this fantasy is one of cyclical motion: once a new universe is spawned, the cycle begins anew, for new worlds and new civilizations to repeat this journey.  Indeed, for Leary, each stage of evolution goes through a three-stage cycle of birth, maturation, and decay before leading into the next stage.  This reflects the notion of a cyclical universe in Hindu cosmology, which however sees the course of civilization as one destined toward decay and destruction rather than a state of perfection.  In the Hindu view, it is the individual life that re-enters again and again in new forms to attempt to climb the ladder to liberation.

In any event, the key ingredient to this timely yet ancient cosmology — recursion — leads us to the insight that no matter the ultimate direction of history or the universe, we exist only in a single moment, a point in motion, brought here by events outside our control and to be swept away by forces outside our control, in death and decay.  We act out our parts as best we can, knowing that we are subsumed in the eternal flux of creation and destruction that define all existence.

This problem is present in all cosmologies (including the modern scientific one), and it’s a crucial weakness for the monothestic/Judeo-Christian view, which sees an eternally static Creator God “zapping” the world and time into existence exactly as we see it today, then just as abruptly, destroying it all in a raging fire, whisking his faithful off to eternal, static bliss.  I find this view of the universe pitifully unimaginative and lacking a key ingredient: sacred union, from which we derive imbalance, from which comes change, repetition, recursion, and eternity.  The Judeo-Christian god is deeply flawed for lacking (or, more truthfully, denying) a creative feminine force, which drives this change and evolution.

In fact, to reconcile this problem, Kabbalistic thinkers have developed the idea of tzimtzum: that, in order to make room for creation, the omnipresent God had to withdraw from a part of himself, leaving himself imperfect.  Thus even Yahweh seeks a mystical union with his own creation.  In any event, we know from experience that the nature of reality is the paradox of eternal change, and yet in common Christian thought Yahweh immaturely seeks to deny this, asserting the immutability of his own personality and ego.  (Gary Snyder reports a Mahayana Buddhist commenting, “He needs to do more meditation.”)

A frequent counter to the idea of an “unmoved mover” god is the question: well, where did God come from, then?  The answer, “I am that I am”, is true yet unsatisfying; this is not the petty, adolescent, egotistical, tribal Yahweh-god but his Mother – the primordial Void, the backdrop in which the creator God appears – talking.  Here’s Jesus, emerging from Mother-God’s vagina, represented as a Mandorla:

That’s more like it!  Every cause must have a cause, and this leads us into a state of “turtles-all-the-way-down“, or infinite recursion, which may as well be an eternal cycle, represented as the self-devouring serpent ouroboros:

The ultimate, all-encompassing religious expression of this concept is contained within this modern image of the Tibetan Buddhist Dharmapala (dharma-protector) Mahakala:

Here, the Great Time-Lord Mahakala advances through time in a blaze of activity, through all dimensions, in perpetual combat with himself as he generates adversaries (his own image) and slaughters and devours them, thereby regenerating himself.  His myriad arms, at once swords and wings, cradle in their clawed hands Bodhisattvas (saints and future Buddhas).  From this eternal recursive creation-destruction, all forms are generated (symbolized in the tiger skin, the leopard prints, the octopus tentacles, the various faces… well, keep looking, you’ll see).  The two tracks of infinitely-receding adversary heads are joined in an earring which points to the empty heart of the beast, the Void.  Yet in his hands, amid the fires and the creation and the death and destruction, he protects in a delicate (vaginal/Mandorla-like) clamshell the central Mystery of the sacred union, Yabyum: the eternal, dark Buddha making love to his own ephemeral feminine nature, enraptured in the embrace of the beloved.

In the distance stand other Buddhas, Dharmapalas, and various demons: the Dharmapala replicated, again, across yet other dimensions (other universes, perhaps?).

The lesson that the Dharmapala brings to us is this: wherever you are, whatever you are doing, all things are in flux.  There is always change, there is no Utopian state of perfection, for creation and destruction are intertwined.  Fighting through the one-way wall, stepping out of the matrix, you find yourself in another matrix, and you cannot escape.  Concentrate therefore on the center, this fusion of opposites, from which all things flow, and you will inhabit at once all levels of existence; the nested shells of all matrices outward and inward come into focus, and you see them line up in eternal recursion in all dimensions for all time.  This is Moksha, liberation.

In the meantime, humanity will continue to attempt to construct a utopia out of machines.  It’s what we do, worker bees that we are. Futile though it is, it’s in our nature.  It is clear that while we may construct bigger and more fantastic fishtanks for ourselves, we cannot escape fishtank existence.  But perhaps we don’t really want to.

No matter.  Onward.  Upward.  Inward.  Outward.  Always.

Via 3quarksdaily, my new favorite poem:

God’s Acrostic
Jaqueline Osherow

What if the universe is God’s acrostic?
He’s sneaking bits of proverbs into seismic variations;
Abbreviating psalms in flecks of snow.
Try to read them, says a comet,

If you dare.
Fine print. What you’ve been waiting for.

Twisted in the DNA of marmosets:
Hermetic feedback to your tight-lipped prayer.
Examine indentations left by hailstones in the grass;

Unearth their parallel soliloquies;
Note, too, the shifting patterns in the shibboleths
Initiating each communication.
Verify them. Don’t take my word.
Eavesdrop on the planets in the outer spheres; they may
Reverse the letters’ previous direction.
Silence, as you might imagine, has no bearing here.
Episodes of stillness—however brief—must be

Interpreted as unheard
Sounds,

Gaps that, with any luck, you’ll fill in later—
Or so you tell yourself, acknowledging
Delusion’s primal status in this enterprise.
Still, that’s no reason to slow down.

Abandonments are howling out around you:
Cast-off lamentations from the thwarted drops of rain
Reduced to vapor on their struggle down;
Observe, at the very least, their passing.
Sanctify them. Don’t succumb
To anything less potent than a spelled-out
Invitation to rule a not yet formulated nebula.
Calm yourself. You’ll hear it come.

I’ve taken issue with Richard Dawkins before, not for his work as a scientist, but for his attempts at evangelizing the benefits of science to an audience he doesn’t really understand using philosophical tools he doesn’t quite have mastery of.  Meet Rev. Michael Dowd, a man who promises to make up for all of Dawkins’ shortcomings:

In 1981, Michael Dowd would have counted himself among the millions of conservative Christians who blame Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution and the idea of a godless, purposeless universe for the moral decline of society. That year, as a freshman at Evangel University in Springfield, Mo., Dowd felt a rush of indignant anger in biology class when the professor held up a textbook that taught evolution. As he stormed out of the classroom, Dowd could not have imagined that he would come to view evolution as a spiritually inspiring idea that religion must embrace.

In the years that followed, Dowd shed his more conservative views and served as a pastor in the liberal United Church of Christ. Today he calls himself an evolutionary evangelist. For the last six years, he has traveled across North America with his wife, Connie Barlow, in a van that displays an image of two fish kissing each other — one labeled Jesus, the other Darwin — explaining to conservative and liberal congregations why understanding and accepting evolution will bring them closer to spiritual fulfillment. The religious advantage to embracing the evolutionary worldview, Dowd says, is that it explains our frailties, our addictions, our infidelities and other moral deficiencies as byproducts of adaptation over billions of years. And that, he says, has a potentially liberating effect: never mind guilt; once we understand our sinful ways, we can get past them and play a conscious role in the evolution of humanity.

(from the New York Times)

Such an approach raises a variety of questions:

• Isn’t this just “Intelligent Design 2.0″?  No.  It’s actually the exact opposite of Intelligent Design, which cloaks religion in the vestiments of science.  While religion makes a poor basis for scientific understanding, science makes an excellent basis for religious understanding; Dowd offers to replace what Dawkins merely seeks to tear down: many people in religious communities are attached not only to their beliefs but more importantly to their traditions, communities, and vague sense of meaning and purpose that the trappings afford them.  It may be easy for some atheists to trivialize these things, but atheism will never make inroads or even win respect among such communities until it shows a capability to offer a mature sense of community amongst laypeople (not merely practicing scientists).
• Why call the Universe “God”?  Why not just throw out the term “God” altogether?  This is along the lines of Dawkins’ fallacy that religion is merely a virus, to be disposed of by reason.  Others have argued that religion is as much an inherent feature of the human mind as language; while the particular form of religion may be heavily influenced by culture, the religious experience/impulse is built out of hardwired features of the human brain that can’t simply be erased.  Giving a religious framework for appreciation of science helps to address this feature, rather than antagonize it (akin to “fighting sin” vs. understanding and addressing the causes of human behavior).

Take a look at Dowd’s “promises” for a sense of the scope of what he’s attempting here.  I don’t expect that his ideas will be embraced very soon by the more biblical-literalist wing of the religious community, but his approach undercuts the (already naive) claims by fundamentalists that evolution presents a universe controlled by randomness, without purpose or meaning, and shows a way to establish morality and value in the universe described by science.