Are the Laws of Physics Necessary or Contingent?

If someone says

The laws of physics (or nature) are necessary for x.

what is he/she saying? That the laws of physics couldn't have been any other way? Possibly. 

The universe wouldn't be the way it is today (as well as life wouldn't be the way it is today - or even have come about) if the laws of nature hadn't been the way they were at the beginning of the universe and beyond. However, that doesn't make the laws themselves necessary. The necessary relation here is one between the laws of physics and the nature of the universe as it is today.

So what about making a claim about the necessity of the laws being the way they are (or were) in the first place? Why is it necessary for them to be the way they are (or were)? True, if they had been different, then we wouldn't be here today. However, that's not the question. The question is:

Why is it necessary that the laws were/are the way they were/are?

It can be said that it was necessary that they were the way they were in order to bring about the universe we know today. Here again, this is about the (necessary) relation between the laws and the nature of the universe today or indeed at any time. It's not about the laws as they were/are in and of themselves.

All this works for the words “accidental”, “contingency” and “chance” too. Thus:

If the laws of physics are contingent (or accidental), then that only makes sense in the context of the possibility that they might/could have been necessary.

Though if they couldn't have been necessary in the first place, then perhaps they couldn't have been accidental or contingent either.

There is another option which some people make (or simply hint at). 

The physical constants necessarily have their strengths, values, etc. because God made them that way in order to bring about the universe (as well as the people) we know today. (For example, the speed of light, the gravitational constant, the Planck constant, the elementary charge of a proton or electron, etc.)

Though here again that necessity is smuggled in to explain why people are here today and also why the universe is the way it is today. That necessity doesn't (or may not) belong to the laws themselves.

Similarly, when Lawrence Krauss says that

“the laws of physics we observe are mere accidents of our circumstances, and that there could exist an infinite number of different universes with different laws of physics”

what is he actually saying?

More specifically, what function is the word “accident” fulling here? If the laws of physics weren't/aren't accidents (or accidental), then what could they be? Necessary? And if they were/are necessary, then what does that mean? Moreover, if the word “accident” has no purchase here, then neither has the word “necessary”. That's because modal logicians and philosophers often tell us that modal notions only make sense as a package-deal. In this instance, the notion of accident (or contingency) only has purchase alongside necessity; just as possibility (which itself is related to accident/contingency/chance) can only work alongside necessity.

Possible Worlds

If one is a believer in possible worlds (or, alternatively, if one believes that an acceptance of modal notions necessitates a belief in possible worlds), then one won't have a problem with the laws of physics being contingent. This is how John Earman puts it:

“Laws are contingent, i.e., they are not true in all possible worlds.”

Of course we may not need to smuggle in possible worlds in order to question the assumption that laws must either be contingent or necessary. In any case, possible worlds are - by definition (or at least David Lewis's definition) - causally, spatially and temporally cut off from us. So, from a strictly scientific perspective, they're (almost?) irrelevant.

There's also another very simple point. The possibility that physical laws may - or even will - be different at other possible worlds doesn't it stop it from being the case that the laws of physics are universal; just as it doesn't stop them from being contingent or necessary at our world. Then again, if necessity is "what is true at all worlds", and if the laws of our world are necessary, then their necessity must be replicated at all possible worlds.

Bogus Philosophical Questions: Logic and Metaphysics (3)

Philosophy of Logic

Take these well-known statements from the philosophy of logic. Namely:

(A) The sentence A is not true.

And:

What I'm now saying is false.

The logical argument here is that we can grammatically assert the sentences above and grammatically apply the predicate “is false” (or “is not true”) to them. However, doesn't that depends on what's meant by the words “we can grammatically assert the sentence”?

Now the sentence

This sentence A.

or even:

This sentence.

is surely not "grammatically acceptable". After all, the words “is not true” are predicated of the words “The sentence A” (or “The sentence”). Thus, what we're really dealing with are the words “The sentence A” (or even the two words “The sentence”).

This is roughly equivalent to saying

I walk down.

or even

This is.

and leaving the locution there. Surely no teacher of English grammar would accept this sentence on its own.

In other words, what if the logic and the paradoxes don't work if the sentence has no semantic or propositional content? Or, to put that another way, perhaps the paradoxes only arise because the sentence “(A) The sentence A is not true” has no propositional content. (Indeed wouldn't this also apply to the Liar Paradox?)

So perhaps this well-known example from logic is all down to its syntax and not its semantics. And if it's all down to syntax, then one can see why some logicians have seen the sentence as being logically acceptable. That is, it's about the form/syntax of these sentences (as well as the problems/puzzles/paradoxes they create): not their content. Though if that's true, isn't it a sleight of hand to use sentences which appear to have content?

Indeed a “non-cognitivist” position may state the following:

The Liar Paradox isn't about propositional content.

Okay, perhaps the Liar Paradox isn't about propositional content. Though what about the sentence “(A) The sentence A is not true”; which doesn't take exactly the same form as the Liar Paradox? And why isn't the Liar Paradox itself also about propositional or semantic content? Or, at the very least, why isn't content seen as being relevant at all?

So let's take another example. Say someone states the following:

I'm lying to you at this very moment in time.

Then a logician can go on to say:

No one will say that the sentence “I'm lying to you at this very moment in time” has no content.

Grammatically speaking, the sentence “I'm lying to you at this very moment in time” is a great sentence - grammatically. We all know what the individual words means and it seems to make sense. However, what is its propositional or semantic content?

The statement “I'm lying to you at this very moment in time” could have propositional or semantic content if the self-accusation of lying refers to other statements the speaker (or liar) had made previously. (Those other sentences would then be false.) However, it's supposed to be a self-referential statement. So what is this man lying about, exactly? He can't be referring to his lying alone because in order to lie, you have to make a claim that's false and also to believe that it's false. Surely the fact is that he's neither lying nor telling the truth.

Mr X is only stating a grammatically-acceptable sentence; though one which has no propositional or semantic content. Therefore he can't be lying or telling the truth.

We can now ask this question:

If the sentence “I'm lying to you at this very moment in time” has no content, then why is it still seen as still being grammatically acceptable?

Now compare

I'm lying to you at this very moment in time.

with

I'm singing to you at this very moment in time.

These two sentences aren't equivalent. And that's not simply because one is about lying and the other is about singing.

When someone says “I'm singing to you at this very moment in time” he's either lying or telling the truth. (He could be singing those words.) That doesn't work for the sentence “I'm lying to you at this very moment in time”. The sentences have the same grammatical form; though the latter is neither true nor false. The former is either true or false. And even if they have the same grammatical form, one is has a truth-value and the other doesn't. Indeed, despite what was said a moment ago, it can now be argued that it's because of this difference, the two sentences can't have the same grammatical form.

Again, because the sentences “I'm singing to you at this very moment in time” and “I'm lying to you at this very moment in time” have the same shape (or form), that creates problems. They may well have the same grammatical shape. Though one could be true or false and the other is neither true nor false. That difference seems to be clear.

Metaphysics

So what about this more philosophical question? Namely:

Why is water H₂O?

Or:

Why is the speed of light 186,000 miles per second?

As well as:

Why is the invariant mass of an electron approximately 9.109×10−³¹ kilograms?

We can also add the following question:

Why is water wet?

An answer to the last question would presumably tell us about the interaction of H₂O molecules and human skin; as well as facts about brains, central nervous systems, sensory receptors, etc. It would also involve a subjective component as to what it is like to experience something wet.

Liquidity (not wetness), on the other hand, can be explained by science and without recourse to “phenomenal feels” (or experience generally).

Thus perhaps we should ask the following question:

Why do H₂O molecules give rise to liquidity?

That question doesn't involve an experiential component.

However, let's get back to this question:

Why is water H₂O?

Isn't this question necessarily unanswerable or even meaningless?

Perhaps, it's just a brute fact that H₂O molecules giving rise to water because they equal water. In other words, this “brute fact” isn't amenable to an explanation.

We can also ask:

Why is water constituted by H₂O molecules?

Or:

Why do H₂O molecules bring about (or cause) water?

The question

Why does the brain/the physical bring about/cause consciousness?

is similar; though certainly not exactly the same. For one, if we have enough H₂O molecules, then we have water and can observe water. We can touch, taste and see water when enough H₂O molecules are brought together (or found together). We can also see H₂O molecules under and microscope.

When we observe brains, on the other hand, we can't touch, taste, or see consciousness. We can experience or our own consciousness; though only from the inside (as it were). So the H₂O-water and brain-consciousness questions are similar; though certainly not the same. Nonetheless, it can still be said that the question is bogus even if consciousness has what John Searle calls a “subjective ontology”; whereas water-H₂O clearly doesn't.

Bogus Philosophical Questions: G.P. Baker (1)

What I'll attempt to do in the following is summed up very well by the American-English philosopher Gordon Park Baker. In his 'φιλοσοφια: εικων και ειδος' (which can be found in Philosophy in Britain Today), Baker wrote:

“We should... make serious efforts at raising questions about the questions commonly viewed as being genuinely philosophical. Perhaps the proper answers to such questions are often, even if not always, further questions!”

All sorts of questions have been deemed to be profound, deep and worthy of serious thought. However, perhaps it's just as important - and indeed just as philosophical - to ask questions about these questions. Or as Gordon Baker puts it:

“The unexamined question is not worth answering.”

Baker adds:

“To accept a question as making good sense and embark on building a philosophical theory to answer it is already to make the decisive step in the whole investigation.”

At the outset, however, it must be noted that what follows isn't a defence of a position that's similar to that which was once held by Russell, Wittgenstein or by the logical positivists. Nor is it a defence of some of the positions advanced by “ordinary-language philosophers” in the 1940s, 1950s and early 1960s.

That is, it's not being argued here that many everyday - and indeed philosophical - statements have a “logical” or “philosophical grammar” which somehow hides deep underneath them. Or at least it isn't part of my argument that the logical grammar of (possibly) bogus questions is hidden.

On the other hand, neither do argue that, as the late Wittgenstein put, “nothing is hidden”.

It's also the case that I don't have a problem with poetic philosophical statements. Take this two examples from Friedrich Nietzsche (both from Beyond Good and Evil):

“I obviously do everything to be 'hard to understand' myself.”

“The text has disappeared under the interpretation.”

As they stand, these sentences aren't meant to be philosophical arguments. They're poetic and/or cultural statements. Nonetheless, philosophical arguments or positions are still embedded within them and can easily be eased out.

Ironically, Wittgenstein himself certainly did see Nietzsche as a philosopher. Indeed it can be said (it often has been said) that many of the Wittgenstein's own statements or questions are poetic, gnomic or “mystical” in nature.

In addition, there's no need to use the word “nonsense” about most (or indeed any) of the questions or statements considered in the following piece. (Despite saying that, the word 'nonsense' wasn't used – by philosophers – in its everyday sense: it usually had a precise technical or philosophical meaning/usage.) For example, saying that a particular question simply assumes that there's an answer (or that a question can't be answered at all) doesn't seem to be a point about logical grammar or about nonsense... 

There's an equivocation here because in Wittgenstein's Culture and Value (a selection from the philosopher's personal notes), he wrote the following:

"As long as there continues to be a verb 'to be' that looks as if it functions in the same way as 'to eat' ... people will keep stumbling over the same puzzling difficulties.”

Now who can have a problem with that? That position may not be entirely acceptable (as it stands); or it may simply be partial. However, if the question

“What is it like to be?”

is asked partly (or indirectly) because questions like

“What is it like to eat Heinz Beanz?”

are also asked, then there may well be a problem.

Bogus Philosophical Questions?

All sorts of questions can be asked. And two fundamental things are assumed when a question is asked:

i) That the question makes sense. (This use of the word 'sense' is meant in a loose non-philosophical sense.)

ii) That the question must (or does) have an answer.

In addition, another problem is summed up (again) by Gordon Baker:

“Questions, just as much as assertions, carry presuppositions.”

This is especially true in philosophy. The type of questions I primarily have in mind here are the following.

i) “Why does the physical give rise to consciousness?” (Or in David Chalmers' words: “How do physical processes give rise to experience?” )

ii) “Why are the constants of nature the way they are?” (Or: “Why do the laws of physics have the numerical values they do have?”)

Just because a question is grammatical and even makes (some kind of) sense, that doesn't mean that it's a philosophically (or otherwise) legitimate question.

So firstly let's take an extreme question:

“Why does the number 6 have such a poor sense of humour?”

Now that's a perfectly grammatical sentence. It even makes some kind of sense. (It does so – at least in part - precisely because it is grammatical.) However, in a philosophical and even commonsensical sense, it doesn't make... well, sense.

To back this up, let's use Noam Chomsky's well-known surreal sentence (though not itself a question). Namely:

“Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.”

All the words (as well as their concepts) in the question are “transparent” when taken individually. (That is, if words can ever be taken individually or outside of the “Fregean context” of a whole sentence.) More relevantly, the sentence itself is grammatically correct – and it may even be logically correct. (Chomsky said that it is “semantically nonsensical”.) However, isn't it also empirically, scientifically and even metaphysically nonsensical? (Hence Chomsky's semantic position.) Nonetheless, can't we still understand that statement?

Take these questions about Chomsky's sentence:

i) Can we conceive of that statement being true? (The word 'conceive' is often used by philosophers who make use of modal notions.)

ii) Do we need to conceive the statement's truth-conditions in order to understand the statement?

iii) Can we even conceive of a situation in which colorless green ideas sleep furiously?

Here it seems that grammatical (or even logical) correctness runs free of conceivability - not only of Chomsky's semantics. In other words, perhaps we don't - and can't - actually conceive of colorless green ideas sleeping furiously at all. Nonetheless, the sentence can still be understood simply because it's grammatical. Though all that, of course, depends on precisely what's meant by the word 'understand'!

So let's take a slightly less extreme question:

“Why does everyone simply adore Anton Webern's Symphony Op. 21?”

That question is also perfectly grammatical. And it's certainly not surreal like the first question. However, the question is somewhat bogus because it simply assumes that everyone does love Webern's Symphony Op. 21. (Of course it's possible that they do.) So this is very much like this well-known question:

“When did you stop beating your wife?”

In other words, both questions beg the question (i.e., they "assume the [or an] initial point").

So the first question is rightfully deemed to be ridiculous. And the second question begs the question.

G.P. Baker's Wittgensteinian Position

So perhaps these questions about questions are partly Wittgensteinian in nature. That is, I certainly appreciate Gordon Baker's Wittgensteinian points made in the following:

“... to suppose that the answers to philosophical questions await discovery is to presuppose that the questions themselves make sense and stand in need of answers (not already available). Why should this not be a fit subject for philosophical scrutiny?”

Indeed Wittgenstein did have things to say on the nature of many philosophical questions (both in his “early” and “late” periods). His position is partly summed up in this passage from Robert W. Angelo. (It contains a quote from Wittgenstein himself.) Thus:

“... nonsense in the form of a question is still nonsense. Which is to say that the question-sign... can only be rejected, not answered: 'What is undefined is without meaning; this is a grammatical remark.'...”

In other words, any question can be asked. And any question may be taken to be legitimate simply because it's grammatical and also because it makes a modicum of sense (i.e., though only if that last word is used very loosely). All the examples given so far may fit these categories.

So take this question:

“Why is water H₂O?”

Or what about this well-respected (i.e., by logicians and philosophers) statement? -

A: This statement [A] is false.

Another good way of summing up the problem with these possibly-bogus questions (or statements) is also cited by Gordon Baker. He writes:

“Questions, just as much as assertions, carry presuppositions. To pose a particular question is to take things for granted, to put some things beyond question or doubt, to treat some things as matters of course...”

As stated before, one obvious “presupposition” to a question is that there's an answer to it; or at least a possible answer.

Now take a seemingly silly question which was first mentioned by Bertrand Russell. (This question is sometimes used to flesh-out issues within the realism/anti-realism debate.) Here's my (very slight) paraphrase of the question:

“Is there a china teapot between the Earth and Mars which is revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit?”

The presupposition here might have been that we - even if only in principle - could discover the truth or falsity of this statement. (Though this wasn't Russell's point.) Does that also work for Chomsky's earlier statement (i.e., “Colorless green ideas sleep furiously”)?

It's possible that we could at least attempt to find an answer to this tea-pot question. However (to state the obvious), we'd quickly find out there are no green ideas. Therefore the question as to whether or not green ideas “sleep furiously” can't (or shouldn't) even arise. In other words, what's being presupposed here is there are green ideas.

Now what's being presupposed here? -

“Why is water H₂O?”

Can the same question also be asked of this question from David Chalmers? Namely:

“Why should physical processing give rise to a rich inner life at all?”

To repeat: a (possible) answer is being presupposed in both cases. That is, the very asking of these questions means that the questioners must assume that there are answers – at least answers in principle.

To use the words of Baker again. Aren't these questioners “taking certain things for granted”? That is, aren't they primarily taking for granted that their questions are legitimate and that there are answers? Moreover, aren't these questioners also “put[ting] some things beyond question or doubt”; as well as “treat[ing] some things as matters of course”?

[All the possibly-bogus questions just mentioned will be tackled in greater detail in the later parts of this piece.]

***************************

*) See my 'Bogus Philosophical Questions: David Chalmers & KittyFerguson (2)'

Is Everything a Computer?

(This piece was published by Philosophy Now. It can also be seen here: 'Everything is a Computer'.)

The words 'computer' and 'computing' are both vague and very broad. Even some of those involved in the field of artificial intelligence (AI) believe that molecules are computers. Or, more precisely, they argue that molecules are “closed physical systems” which compute. That is, molecules carry out information processing. Or, alternatively, they receive input, work on that input, and then produce/deliver output.

Indeed in one place I came across this representation of the DNA molecule as a Turing machine:

     Tape = DNA
         Head = Ribosome
        State Register = RNA
        States = Amino acid
        Instruction Table = DNA  codon table 
     Output Tape = Proteins

(A distinction has to be made here between seeing the DNA molecule as a computer and the possible use of biochemical materials – such as DNA - as 'hardware' for computers.)

This position on omnipresent computation reaches its zenith with what's called pancomputationalism. This is the view of digital physics which says that the entire evolution of the universe is (or has been) a computation. That may mean (to some) that God Himself is a computer scientist or programmer.

Again and again it seems to come back to the broadness or vagueness of the word 'computation'. One way this can be put is to admit that in certain ways (or senses) the mind-brain is indeed a computer or that it does carry out computations. However, all sorts of philosophers have argued that computation isn't definitive of mind: it's not even important to being a mind. Or, it may be important, though only in the sense that, as Hilary Putnam puts it, "every ordinary open system realizes every abstract finite automaton” (1991).

John Searle agrees with Putnam on this. He wrote the following about the vagueness and/or broadness of the term 'computation':

“... the wall behind my back is right now implementing the WordStar program, because there is some pattern of molecule movements that is isomorphic with the formal structure of WordStar. But if the wall is implementing WordStar, if it is a big enough wall it is implementing any program, including any program implemented in the brain.” (1992)

The Digital Window: window open = 1/ window shut = 0 

Elsewhere Searle also writes:

“... the window in front of me is a very simple computer. Window open = 1, window closed = 0. That is, if we accept Turing’s definition according to which anything to which you can assign a 0 and a 1 is a computer, then the window is a simple and trivial computer.” (1997)

Of course what can be said here is that there are certain things that computers (or Turing machines) do which Searle's wall (or window) doesn't do. That's true; though there are also indefinitely many things things that the mind-brain does which computers can't do. However, that doesn't seem to stop people claiming that the mind-brain is a Turing machine or a computer.

When people say,

“The brain is a Turing machine.”

many of them may mean:

The mind-brain sometimes - and in some ways - behaves like a Turing machine.

Of course I said “some people”. That means that other people believe that the human brain is literally a Turing machine or computer.

To put some more meat on the qualified claim that “brains behave like Turning machines”. This amounts to saying that some higher-level processing done by brains parallels - to some extent - what Turing machines do. The problem with that is such higher-level processing may also have some similarities with what goes in a cell or even in a inorganic/inanimate system. Indeed the brain's own neurons process input in ways similar to a Turing machine.

The crunch question would therefore be whether or not mind-brains and Turning machines are alike when it comes to processing abstract and highly complex cognitive tasks.

Modelling Physical Systems

Where does the idea that the brain is a computer (or Turing machine) come from? I believe it mainly comes from the following.

Firstly, there's a strong link which is made between brains, mathematical models and Turing machines. When taken together (or sequentially) we get the idea that the brain is a Turing machine.

This (very roughly) is the argument:

i) Once we have mathematically described all the workings (or processes) of the brain

       
      ii) then a Turing machine can model the brain.

Some go so far as to say that “mathematics is synonymous with computation”. And through maths/computation, we can model all of reality (or each bit separately). Thus a Turing machine can model and compute the whole of physical reality.... including the brain.

Workers in artificial intelligence (AI) are keen to tell us that physicists have created accurate models of all aspects of physical reality (including at the quantum level). All these models are essentially (sometimes only) mathematical in nature. Thus it's only one step on from there to say that they're also computable.

So we're talking about models of physical reality. More accurately, we're talking about mathematical models of physical reality. These models, by definition, will be computable.

Thus brains, being part of physical reality, can be mathematically modelled. Therefore brains themselves are computable. They are computers.

Indeed the brain (like any spatiotemporal region or even a single atom) is said to be a “subset of the physical universe”. And every subset of the physical universe is computable – at least in principle.

Other people talk about “simulating physical systems” rather than modelling them. So, to quote such a person, this is what he concludes:

“... if the brain is a purely physical object, which is the only option consistent with our understanding of how the universe works, there is no reason it cannot be simulated.”

The logic is simple:

i) All physical objects/systems can be simulated or modelled.

ii) The brain is a physical object or system.iii) Therefore the brain can be simulated or modelled.

The problem here is the slide from x's being computable to x being a computer.

Even if the brain (or its workings) were computable, that wouldn't automatically make it a computer. Searle's wall or window is (digitally) computable; though that doesn't make it a computer. Sure, we can carry out an act of stipulation and say:

If the brain is computable, then it's a computer.

Then again we can do the same to Searle's wall (or window):

If that wall (or window) is computable, then it's a computer.

At this rate, almost everything is a computer.

A computer, on the other hand, is both computable and a computer.

References

Putnam, Hilary. (1991) Representation and Reality
Rana, Fazale. (2012) 'Biochemical Turing Machines “Reboot” the Watchmaker Argument'
Searle, John. (1992) The Rediccovery of Mind (pages 2008/9).
-- (1997) The Mystery of Consciousness