(This story is based on a story of Rebbe Nachum of Chernobyl. See “The First Year of Marriage” by Rabbi Abraham J Twersky, MD, in the chapter on “Anger”.)
Once upon a time, there was a Hasid who was very poor. He lived in a small, two bedroom apartment with his wife and five children (they only had five because they couldn’t afford any more). They never had meat and fish except for Shabbos, when the Hasid’s wife bought a pack of chicken necks, which she split between the soup and the cholent. The Hasid worked 10 hours a day 6 days a week and he had many debts.
The Hasid did have one treasure. From his father, he had inherited the tefillin of the Kotzker. He laned the Kotzker’s tefillin for Shacharit every morning, and he could almost feel the holiness of the Kotzker himself. Rich men often approached the Hasid with large monetary offers for the tefillin, but he refused to part with them.
One Tishrei, the Hasid was shopping for Arba Minim. This time of year was always very depressing for him. He couldn’t avoid seeing many beautiful etrogim, but he could never afford any but the simplest etrog. As he walked through the shuk, expensive etrogim winked at the Hasid, sang to him, bombarded him with gravitons of desire. “Buy me,” they said. “You know you want to.”
“I can’t,” the Hasid replied. “I don’t have any money.”
Finally, he found an etrog that he could afford. With a heavy heart, he reached into his pocket for change, when he suddenly heard an etrog voice: “How can you appear before the King of Kings with such a shoddy etrog? Why, it’s barely kosher!”
The Hasid turned around, and saw, in the adjacent shot, the most beautiful etrog he had ever seen. In fact, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was an etrog beyond his wildest dreams. At once he decided: “This etrog is for me. I will bench with it this Sukkot.”
“How much do you want for this etrog?” the Hasid asked.
“If you have to ask, you can’t afford it,” the merchant said.
“Yes I can,” the Hasid said. “In this talis bag, I have the tefillin of the Kotzker.”
“The Kotzker?” asked the merchant. “Let me see.”
The merchant looked at the tefillin and frowned. “I am selling this etrog for $100,000,” he said. “The Kotzker’s tefillin will fetch, at most, $90,000. Do you have any other tefillin? The Baal Shem Tov’s, perhaps?”
“No,” said the Hasid. “Just the Kotzker’s.”
“Very well,” said the merchant. “I like you and I will give you a discount. Give me the tefillin and you may have the etrog.”
The merchant brought in his lawyers, drew up a contract, took the tefillin, and gave the Hasid the etrog (along with the deed to the etrog).
The Hasid was ecstatic. He was drunk with happiness. He sang and danced all the way home. He opened the door and met his wife.
“My dear wife!” he exclaimed. “You won’t believe it! Wait until you see our beautiful etrog!”
His wife frowned. “Please tell me you didn’t sell the Kotzker’s tefillin to buy an overpriced etrog,” she said.
“But my dear wife,” the Hasid said, “that’s exactly what I did.”
“For all these years, we’ve been struggling and hungry. You work 10 hours a day and you’re up to your ears in debt. We never have fish or meat. We never have money for clothes or furniture. To support your family, you never even considered selling the tefillin. I was supposed to wallow in the mud while you laned your tefillin. You are selfish and foolish. Give me that etrog right now.“
“Give you the etrog?” the Hasid asked. “Why?”
“It’s secondhand now. You probably just lost us 10%. But I’m sure I can find someone to take it off our hands for a good percentage of what you paid.”
“Sell it?” the Hasid said. “I’m not selling my etrog for anything.”
“Give me that etrog,” the Hasid’s wife said, “or get out of my house.”
Devastated, the Hasid left, etrog in hand. He went straight to the house of the Rebbe. He knocked on the door. There was no answer. So he went to the bais medrash. “Where is the Rebbe?” the Hasid asked.
“He’s at home,” the Rebbe’s lieutenant said.
So the Hasid went back to the Rebbe’s house and knocked again. There was no answer, so he knocked again. Finally the Rebbe came out. He gave the Hasid “the Rebbe look” (as if his eyes were laser beams tearing the Hasid into pieces) and then he said, “Please wait here for one minute.”
The Hasid waited for a minute, and then the Rebbe returned. “Sorry about that,” the Rebbe said. “I was having tea with the Rebbetzin.”
The Rebbe led the Hasid into his home and they both sat down at the table. The Hasid told the Rebbe what happened.
“Nu?” the Rebbe said. “Let’s see the etrog.” The Hasid took the etrog out of its box and showed it to the Rebbe. “Wow,” the Rebbe said. “That is the most beautiful etrog I have ever seen in my whole entire life.”
“You see?” the Hasid said. “And she wants me to sell it!”
“When Rebbe Elazar ben Azaria was appointed president of the Sanhedrin, what is the first thing he did?” the Rebbe asked. “He consulted his wife. $100,000 is a lot of money, especially for a poor man like you. Why didn’t you consult your wife before making such a purchase?”
“I was afraid that if I took the time to go home, someone else would have taken my etrog,” the Hasid said.
“Nu?” the Rebbe said. “And so what? So someone else would have benched with this etrog on Sukkot. Is that such a bad thing? Did you ever ask your wife what she thought about the offers to buy the tefillin?”
“No,” the Hasid said.
“Why not?” the Rebbe said.
“Because I didn’t want to sell the tefillin,” the Hasid said. “I wouldn’t have listened to her anyway, so what would be the point of consulting her?”
“Don’t you think she should have a say in the finances of her own household?” the Rebbe asked.
“Yes, I suppose so,” the Hasid said.
“What you did is a terrible, terrible thing,” the Rebbe said. “You betrayed your wife’s trust.”
“So what should I do?” asked the Hasid.
“Obviously, you should give her the etrog, so she can sell it,” the Rebbe said. “But you must do more than that. You must apologize for what you did. And to show that you mean it, you must bring her flowers.”
“Can I bring the flowers tomorrow?” the Hasid asked.
“No,” said the Rebbe. “You must have the flowers in hand when you get home.”
“But Rebbe,” the Hasid said, “it’s 8PM. All the flower shops are closed by now.”
“You’re right,” said the Rebbe. “I hadn’t thought of that. Wait here for a minute.” The Hasid waited for a minute and then the Rebbe came back with a bouquet of fresh red roses. “I told the Rebbetzin the story, and she agreed to donate these roses to the cause,” he said. “I’ll replace them tomorrow. Just don’t tell your wife where you got them.”
So the Hasid returned home and gave his wife the etrog and the flowers. “I’m sorry I traded the Kotzker’s tefillin without consulting you,” the Hasid said.
“You just lost us a lot of money,” the Hasid’s wife said.
“I know,” the Hasid said. “I will try to always consult with you in the future.”
The Hasid’s wife smiled. “It’s OK, my dear husband,” she said. “What’s a few thousand dollars anyway? The important thing is that we have shalom bayis.”
Monday, March 26, 2012
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Give Statistics a Chance: A Platonic Dialogue by MC Complete
Steven Pinker’s “Our Better Angels: Why Violence has Declined” is a must read. Or, in other words, you must read it.
It is a brilliant work of history and psychology: the history of violence and the psychology of violence.
And then there’s the evidence. So, so much evidence. It’s like somebody finally turned on the lights in a dark room.
Since “Better Angels” is such a required book, I have invited Steven Pinker -- that is, a fictional representation of Steven Pinker -- to my blog for a Platonic Dialogue.
Daniel: You know, Steven, when I mention your book to people, they’re always incredulous.
Steven: Well, of course they are. I’ve revealed History’s Best Kept Secret.
Daniel: Yes, but it’s not just that. People are incredulous for a very specific reason.
Steven: You mean Hitler?
Daniel: Exactly. Hitler, Stalin, and Mao. The two World Wars and the Fascist/Communist genocides.
Steven: So tell them to read my book, which will stun them with the inescapable conclusion that violence has declined despite the best efforts of Hitler and Stalin.
Daniel: But I read your book. You throw a lot of logic, math and data at the Hitler argument, and it’s all very brilliant, but when it’s all said and done, I can’t say what the bottom line is. I feel like you’ve pulled a fast one.
Steven: Hitler, Hitler. Why are people so obsessed with Hitler? Why can’t they focus on Kruschev and Gorbachev? Look, things may have been bad in the first half of the 20th century, but since World War 2, things have been unprecedentedly peaceful. Some people aren’t aware of this, but my book proves that it is so.
Daniel: You mean the Pax Americana?
Steven: Please don’t use that term! It’s called “The Long Peace”. During most of it, there were two superpowers, one of which was an “Evil Empire”.
Daniel: But maybe that was just a run of good luck.
Steven: Really? What about the World Wars and the Holocaust? Maybe they were just bad luck?
Daniel: Maybe. We can’t really say, can we?
Steven: All I am saying is “Give Statistics a Chance”. If you analyze the 20th century statistically relative to historical trends, you can show that the World Wars are statistically insignificant, whereas The Long Peace is statistically significant. In other words, the World Wars seem to be a run of bad luck, but The Long Peace is *not* just good luck -- it’s a game changer.
Daniel: I guess so.
Steven: Anyway, why are people so obsessed with war? My book is about so much more than that. Human violence is about so much more than that. Just to give one example, murder rates are about 1/30 of what they were Medieval Europe, due to a (more or less) consistent decline over the centuries. And murders have always killed more people than wars, even the World Wars.
Daniel: Yes, you’re absolutely right. Your book would be just as impressive if we just skipped Chapters 5 and 6 (“The Long Peace” and “The New Peace”). In fact, maybe even more impressive.
Steven: Don’t skip them! They’re very important!
Daniel: You know what other chapter we could skip?
Steven: Don’t skip any chapter! That’s cherrypicking!
Daniel: Chapter 1, where you bash the Torah.
Steven: Oh, you were offended by that, were you?
Daniel: Well, to be perfectly honest, I actually wasn’t offended. But most of my friends, who happen to be Jewish Fundamentalists, would be very offended. There’s no way they’ll keep reading after Chapter 1.
Steven: Well, I’m sorry, but as a pacifist, the Torah just makes me mad. It makes my blood boil.
Daniel: Look, I understand, but Chapter 1 is really not necessary. You could remove it from the book and barely notice its absence. All that is accomplished by Chapter 1 is writing off a section of your potential audience. It may not be a large section of your audience, but it’s a section of your audience that means a lot to me...
It is a brilliant work of history and psychology: the history of violence and the psychology of violence.
And then there’s the evidence. So, so much evidence. It’s like somebody finally turned on the lights in a dark room.
Since “Better Angels” is such a required book, I have invited Steven Pinker -- that is, a fictional representation of Steven Pinker -- to my blog for a Platonic Dialogue.
Daniel: You know, Steven, when I mention your book to people, they’re always incredulous.
Steven: Well, of course they are. I’ve revealed History’s Best Kept Secret.
Daniel: Yes, but it’s not just that. People are incredulous for a very specific reason.
Steven: You mean Hitler?
Daniel: Exactly. Hitler, Stalin, and Mao. The two World Wars and the Fascist/Communist genocides.
Steven: So tell them to read my book, which will stun them with the inescapable conclusion that violence has declined despite the best efforts of Hitler and Stalin.
Daniel: But I read your book. You throw a lot of logic, math and data at the Hitler argument, and it’s all very brilliant, but when it’s all said and done, I can’t say what the bottom line is. I feel like you’ve pulled a fast one.
Steven: Hitler, Hitler. Why are people so obsessed with Hitler? Why can’t they focus on Kruschev and Gorbachev? Look, things may have been bad in the first half of the 20th century, but since World War 2, things have been unprecedentedly peaceful. Some people aren’t aware of this, but my book proves that it is so.
Daniel: You mean the Pax Americana?
Steven: Please don’t use that term! It’s called “The Long Peace”. During most of it, there were two superpowers, one of which was an “Evil Empire”.
Daniel: But maybe that was just a run of good luck.
Steven: Really? What about the World Wars and the Holocaust? Maybe they were just bad luck?
Daniel: Maybe. We can’t really say, can we?
Steven: All I am saying is “Give Statistics a Chance”. If you analyze the 20th century statistically relative to historical trends, you can show that the World Wars are statistically insignificant, whereas The Long Peace is statistically significant. In other words, the World Wars seem to be a run of bad luck, but The Long Peace is *not* just good luck -- it’s a game changer.
Daniel: I guess so.
Steven: Anyway, why are people so obsessed with war? My book is about so much more than that. Human violence is about so much more than that. Just to give one example, murder rates are about 1/30 of what they were Medieval Europe, due to a (more or less) consistent decline over the centuries. And murders have always killed more people than wars, even the World Wars.
Daniel: Yes, you’re absolutely right. Your book would be just as impressive if we just skipped Chapters 5 and 6 (“The Long Peace” and “The New Peace”). In fact, maybe even more impressive.
Steven: Don’t skip them! They’re very important!
Daniel: You know what other chapter we could skip?
Steven: Don’t skip any chapter! That’s cherrypicking!
Daniel: Chapter 1, where you bash the Torah.
Steven: Oh, you were offended by that, were you?
Daniel: Well, to be perfectly honest, I actually wasn’t offended. But most of my friends, who happen to be Jewish Fundamentalists, would be very offended. There’s no way they’ll keep reading after Chapter 1.
Steven: Well, I’m sorry, but as a pacifist, the Torah just makes me mad. It makes my blood boil.
Daniel: Look, I understand, but Chapter 1 is really not necessary. You could remove it from the book and barely notice its absence. All that is accomplished by Chapter 1 is writing off a section of your potential audience. It may not be a large section of your audience, but it’s a section of your audience that means a lot to me...
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Beyond a Shadow of a Doubt: A Platonic Dialogue by MC Complete
Daniel: I don’t understand this free will business. It’s meaningless. Who needs it?
Isaac: But if we didn’t have free will, what would be with moral responsibility?
Daniel: I don’t understand this moral responsibility business. It’s meaningless. Who needs it?
Isaac: But without moral responsibility, how could we punish criminals?
Daniel: Aha. Punishing criminals is about deterrence. Not revenge.
Isaac: But if punishing criminals is only about deterrence, then why do we take pains (in theory) to avoid punishing the innocent?
Daniel: What? Why not?
Isaac: Taking pains to avoid punishing the innocent dilutes the deterrence effect (in theory). If moral responsibility is not an issue, then why would we care so much if the alleged criminal actually committed the crime?
Daniel: Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of that. Very clever. In that case, what is moral responsibility?
Isaac: Heck if I know. But it must be something!
Isaac: But if we didn’t have free will, what would be with moral responsibility?
Daniel: I don’t understand this moral responsibility business. It’s meaningless. Who needs it?
Isaac: But without moral responsibility, how could we punish criminals?
Daniel: Aha. Punishing criminals is about deterrence. Not revenge.
Isaac: But if punishing criminals is only about deterrence, then why do we take pains (in theory) to avoid punishing the innocent?
Daniel: What? Why not?
Isaac: Taking pains to avoid punishing the innocent dilutes the deterrence effect (in theory). If moral responsibility is not an issue, then why would we care so much if the alleged criminal actually committed the crime?
Daniel: Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of that. Very clever. In that case, what is moral responsibility?
Isaac: Heck if I know. But it must be something!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Work smarter, not harder: A Hasidic Parable by MC Complete
A long time ago, in a village far, far away, there were two brothers, Reuven and Shimon. Reuven and Shimon were very different in many ways. Reuven was always tired and sleep deprived; Shimon always got plenty of rest. Reuven was always busy, worried and stressed out; Shimon always took it easy. But there was one thing the brothers had in common: they both learned a lot of Torah.
After 120 years, the brothers went to shamayim. When they got to Gan Eden, Reuven was rewarded with a beautiful plot of land with flowers, fruit trees, a Shas, a Rambam, a Shulchan Aruch, and the Ran on Nedarim. However, Shimon was rewarded with a huge plot of land, with trees, flowers, birds, a waterfall, and a library full of Rishonim, Achronim, and Poskim, and wireless.
When Shimon saw this, he was very upset. He want to Hashem and said, “Hashem, I don’t understand. My borther worked so hard all his life. He was sleep deprived, stressed out, and worried, and yet he always found time to learn Torah. And how he learned Torah! He would not turn the page until he understood every word of the Gemara. I know that sometimes he would struggle with passages in the Gemara, so much so that sometimes he would not be able to sleep.”
“Hashem, You know that I did not learn Torah like that. I never had the kochos hanefesh that my brother had. If I didn’t understand something, I would read some mefarshim, think about it for a few minutes, maybe discuss it with my brother, and then, if I wasn’t getting anywhere, I would move on and forget about it.”
“There must be some mistake! I got the portion of Gan Eden that was clearly intended for my brother.”
“Do not worry about your brother, “ said Hashem. “He got the a beautiful portion in Gan Eden. But you got the portion that was intended for you.”
“When I learn Torah,” Hashem said, “do you think I’m tired, stressed out, and worried? Of course not. For Me, learning Torah is easy. Your brother learned Torah the way a man learns Torah, but you learned the way that I learn. You fulfilled the words of My Torah: in the image of God was Man created.”
“Effort and willpower is an aspect of the body, but wisdom is an aspect of the soul.”
This life is a constant struggle between the Yetzer Tov and the Yetzer Hara. The Yetzer Tov is like a tiny nation state surrounded on all sides by large enemy nations. The Yetzer Tov has no hope of overpowering the Yetzer Hara. The only hope of the Yetzer Tov is to have better weapons and better battle plans.
And lots and lots of siyata dishmaya.
After 120 years, the brothers went to shamayim. When they got to Gan Eden, Reuven was rewarded with a beautiful plot of land with flowers, fruit trees, a Shas, a Rambam, a Shulchan Aruch, and the Ran on Nedarim. However, Shimon was rewarded with a huge plot of land, with trees, flowers, birds, a waterfall, and a library full of Rishonim, Achronim, and Poskim, and wireless.
When Shimon saw this, he was very upset. He want to Hashem and said, “Hashem, I don’t understand. My borther worked so hard all his life. He was sleep deprived, stressed out, and worried, and yet he always found time to learn Torah. And how he learned Torah! He would not turn the page until he understood every word of the Gemara. I know that sometimes he would struggle with passages in the Gemara, so much so that sometimes he would not be able to sleep.”
“Hashem, You know that I did not learn Torah like that. I never had the kochos hanefesh that my brother had. If I didn’t understand something, I would read some mefarshim, think about it for a few minutes, maybe discuss it with my brother, and then, if I wasn’t getting anywhere, I would move on and forget about it.”
“There must be some mistake! I got the portion of Gan Eden that was clearly intended for my brother.”
“Do not worry about your brother, “ said Hashem. “He got the a beautiful portion in Gan Eden. But you got the portion that was intended for you.”
“When I learn Torah,” Hashem said, “do you think I’m tired, stressed out, and worried? Of course not. For Me, learning Torah is easy. Your brother learned Torah the way a man learns Torah, but you learned the way that I learn. You fulfilled the words of My Torah: in the image of God was Man created.”
“Effort and willpower is an aspect of the body, but wisdom is an aspect of the soul.”
This life is a constant struggle between the Yetzer Tov and the Yetzer Hara. The Yetzer Tov is like a tiny nation state surrounded on all sides by large enemy nations. The Yetzer Tov has no hope of overpowering the Yetzer Hara. The only hope of the Yetzer Tov is to have better weapons and better battle plans.
And lots and lots of siyata dishmaya.
The king and the general: A Hasidic Parable by MC Complete
A long time ago, in a kingdom far, far away, lived a king and a general. One day, an enemy kingdom invaded with a large army. The king asked his general to lead the king’s army and repel the invasion. With great ingenuity and bravery, the general repelled the invasion.
The king was very happy. The next day, a messenger arrived at the general’s house with a beautiful white horse.
“The king has decided to honor you for your bravery,” said the messenger. “He sent you this horse as a token of appreciation.”
“I’m sorry,” said the general. “But I cannot accept this horse. Please return it to the king.”
The messenger was shocked. “Why not?” he asked.
“Because I am confident that if I wait for a few years, the king will send me a horse *and* a chariot,” replied the general.
What could he do? The messenger returned to the king and reported to him the bizarre words of the general.
The king was furious. “How dare the general refuse my gift?” he asked.
A few years passed. Again, the foreign army invaded. Again, the general repelled the invasion. But this time, the king did not send a gift to the general. “If my gifts are not good enough for the general, why should I bother sending them?” the king asked.
The king, of course, is Hashem. The general is us. Sometimes Hashem sends us physical pleasures as a reward for our mitzvos. Sometimes we accept them with love; but sometimes we refuse them, thinking that eschewing the pleasures of this world will make us frummer. Sometimes we even think that enjoying the pleasures of this world will dilute our reward in The Next World, as if zechuyos are stock options that may be exercised at a time of our choosing.
The king was very happy. The next day, a messenger arrived at the general’s house with a beautiful white horse.
“The king has decided to honor you for your bravery,” said the messenger. “He sent you this horse as a token of appreciation.”
“I’m sorry,” said the general. “But I cannot accept this horse. Please return it to the king.”
The messenger was shocked. “Why not?” he asked.
“Because I am confident that if I wait for a few years, the king will send me a horse *and* a chariot,” replied the general.
What could he do? The messenger returned to the king and reported to him the bizarre words of the general.
The king was furious. “How dare the general refuse my gift?” he asked.
A few years passed. Again, the foreign army invaded. Again, the general repelled the invasion. But this time, the king did not send a gift to the general. “If my gifts are not good enough for the general, why should I bother sending them?” the king asked.
The king, of course, is Hashem. The general is us. Sometimes Hashem sends us physical pleasures as a reward for our mitzvos. Sometimes we accept them with love; but sometimes we refuse them, thinking that eschewing the pleasures of this world will make us frummer. Sometimes we even think that enjoying the pleasures of this world will dilute our reward in The Next World, as if zechuyos are stock options that may be exercised at a time of our choosing.
Is the mind a computer?
Is the mind a machine? Daniel Dennet seems to think so.
The brain is an organ. Organs are organic machines, components in a composite machine (the composite machine is the animal itself). Probably, one can also analyze the brain, and see how the brain is also a composite machine, composed of smaller machines. Maybe the mind is simply one of the smaller machines that compose the brain.
Is the mind a computer? Dennet calls the mind a “virtual machine”. The term “virtual machine” can mean different things in technical contexts. The JVM (Java Virtual Machine) and a VMWare (VM here stands for “virtual machine”) image are two very different things. Mostly what Dennet is trying to say by using this term is that the mind is software as opposed to hardware. This distinction is very important to Dennet, and he uses it to make some interesting points, but I find it problematic and sometimes distracting. So for the moment I want to ignore the hardware/software distinction.
Computers, unlike many other machines, deal with data. A computer stores data in memory (and on disk, and in registers, but let’s ignore these distinctions for the moment). The contents of memory change over time. This gives rise to a distinction that I do not want to ignore: the distinction between data and behavior. A computer does things, but computer memory doesn’t do anything. The computer’s CPU does things. The memory is there for the CPU to play with.
The CPU can do things, but without the memory, it doesn’t know what to do! It looks to the memory for instructions on what to do next. This adds complexity, so some computers or computer programs segment the memory into the part that contains instructions and the part that contains non-instructions, or data.
If we model the mind as a computer, consciousness should be modeled as the data memory of the computer. A mind can be conscious of different kinds of things. The simplest contents of consciousness may be sensory perception, but certainly includes other things, like emotions, thoughts, etc.
I sometimes like to use JSON (JavaScript Object Notation) as a semi-formal, or pseudocode, way of visualizing the contents of data memory. Here is a pseudocode model of a conscious state:
{
visualField: ‘Some bitmap with a computer screen’,
desires: [
‘Solve the mind-body problem’,
‘Publish a philosophical paper’,
],
volition: ‘typing’,
beliefs: [
‘The mind is a computer’,
‘God exists’
]
}
At any other point in time, the memory of this mind probably has contents that are different to some extent or another, for instance:
{
visualField: ‘Israeli salad’,
desires: [
‘Solve the mind-body problem’,
‘Publish a philosophical paper’,
],
volition: ‘eating’,
beliefs: [
‘The mind is a computer’,
‘God exists’
]
}
This “JSON object” represents the contents of consciousness, which is the data memory of the mind. Presumably, there is something relevant to the CPU and the instruction memory, which controls or influences the transitions between conscious states, but those mechanisms are not contents of consciousness.
Many have emphasized the “higher-order” nature of consciouness, which means that the mind can think about itself. Some, like Hofstaedter (and my father), seem to suggest that it is this “higher-order” nature that makes consciousness what it is. Dennet is a bit more cautious about this point, but he too finds great importance in this higher-order-ness. Higher-order-ness can also be modeled in JSON, and I think modeling it in this way can help clarify what higher-order-ness means:
{
visualField: ‘Bitmap with a computer screen’,
thoughts: [
‘I see a computer in front of me’,
‘There is a computer in front of me’,
‘I think therefore I am’
]
}
When the mind thinks about itself, it has a very high degree of accuracy. There is nothing logically necessary about this. It’s just how the mind works.
The brain is an organ. Organs are organic machines, components in a composite machine (the composite machine is the animal itself). Probably, one can also analyze the brain, and see how the brain is also a composite machine, composed of smaller machines. Maybe the mind is simply one of the smaller machines that compose the brain.
Is the mind a computer? Dennet calls the mind a “virtual machine”. The term “virtual machine” can mean different things in technical contexts. The JVM (Java Virtual Machine) and a VMWare (VM here stands for “virtual machine”) image are two very different things. Mostly what Dennet is trying to say by using this term is that the mind is software as opposed to hardware. This distinction is very important to Dennet, and he uses it to make some interesting points, but I find it problematic and sometimes distracting. So for the moment I want to ignore the hardware/software distinction.
Computers, unlike many other machines, deal with data. A computer stores data in memory (and on disk, and in registers, but let’s ignore these distinctions for the moment). The contents of memory change over time. This gives rise to a distinction that I do not want to ignore: the distinction between data and behavior. A computer does things, but computer memory doesn’t do anything. The computer’s CPU does things. The memory is there for the CPU to play with.
The CPU can do things, but without the memory, it doesn’t know what to do! It looks to the memory for instructions on what to do next. This adds complexity, so some computers or computer programs segment the memory into the part that contains instructions and the part that contains non-instructions, or data.
If we model the mind as a computer, consciousness should be modeled as the data memory of the computer. A mind can be conscious of different kinds of things. The simplest contents of consciousness may be sensory perception, but certainly includes other things, like emotions, thoughts, etc.
I sometimes like to use JSON (JavaScript Object Notation) as a semi-formal, or pseudocode, way of visualizing the contents of data memory. Here is a pseudocode model of a conscious state:
{
visualField: ‘Some bitmap with a computer screen’,
desires: [
‘Solve the mind-body problem’,
‘Publish a philosophical paper’,
],
volition: ‘typing’,
beliefs: [
‘The mind is a computer’,
‘God exists’
]
}
At any other point in time, the memory of this mind probably has contents that are different to some extent or another, for instance:
{
visualField: ‘Israeli salad’,
desires: [
‘Solve the mind-body problem’,
‘Publish a philosophical paper’,
],
volition: ‘eating’,
beliefs: [
‘The mind is a computer’,
‘God exists’
]
}
This “JSON object” represents the contents of consciousness, which is the data memory of the mind. Presumably, there is something relevant to the CPU and the instruction memory, which controls or influences the transitions between conscious states, but those mechanisms are not contents of consciousness.
Many have emphasized the “higher-order” nature of consciouness, which means that the mind can think about itself. Some, like Hofstaedter (and my father), seem to suggest that it is this “higher-order” nature that makes consciousness what it is. Dennet is a bit more cautious about this point, but he too finds great importance in this higher-order-ness. Higher-order-ness can also be modeled in JSON, and I think modeling it in this way can help clarify what higher-order-ness means:
{
visualField: ‘Bitmap with a computer screen’,
thoughts: [
‘I see a computer in front of me’,
‘There is a computer in front of me’,
‘I think therefore I am’
]
}
When the mind thinks about itself, it has a very high degree of accuracy. There is nothing logically necessary about this. It’s just how the mind works.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
I Think: A Platonic Dialogue by MC Complete
Daniel: Why do you think we think?
Clement: What do you mean by think?
Daniel: I mean, talk to ourselves in natural language.
Clement: Talk to ourselves internally?
Daniel: Right, not out loud.
Clement: What do you mean by why?
Daniel: Well, in a few places, you seem to imply that the Joyce Machine is a search engine. Bird calls and Plato's Aviary and all that.
Clement: Surely, thinking accomplishes many different things and works in different ways. But I am suggesting that one of the main functions of thought (in this sense), perhaps the original function of thought, is the search function. Soul-searching, you could say.
Daniel: I've been thinking that the Joyce Machine (in this sense) is more of a YouTube than a search engine.
Clement: What do you mean?
Daniel: It's about content creation, not search. There is no Central Birdkeeper who has to call the birds; the birds ultimately express themselves in our behavior one way or another. They don't need an intermediary. They're kind of like demons. Thinking isn't a method of calling birds; it's a method of creating new birds.
Clement: What do you mean by think?
Daniel: I mean, talk to ourselves in natural language.
Clement: Talk to ourselves internally?
Daniel: Right, not out loud.
Clement: What do you mean by why?
Daniel: Well, in a few places, you seem to imply that the Joyce Machine is a search engine. Bird calls and Plato's Aviary and all that.
Clement: Surely, thinking accomplishes many different things and works in different ways. But I am suggesting that one of the main functions of thought (in this sense), perhaps the original function of thought, is the search function. Soul-searching, you could say.
Daniel: I've been thinking that the Joyce Machine (in this sense) is more of a YouTube than a search engine.
Clement: What do you mean?
Daniel: It's about content creation, not search. There is no Central Birdkeeper who has to call the birds; the birds ultimately express themselves in our behavior one way or another. They don't need an intermediary. They're kind of like demons. Thinking isn't a method of calling birds; it's a method of creating new birds.
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