On If

      On If

 

          “If”! Most subtle of words! A shy word, a wary word, a word guarding entire alternate universes! “If”! A shield, a trap, a promise, a warning, and a revelation!

          I note here three uses of ‘if’; one in ancient history, one in modern popular culture, and one for my own personal philosophy.

          First: once King Philip of Macedonia, father of Alexander the Great, sent a message to the Spartans. The message read, “If I invade Sparta, then I will burn the crops, level the city, and slay the people.” The Spartans sent back a message; it read, “If.” Philip then sent a peace delegation.

          Second: once, on Star Trek Voyager, Chatokay was kidnapped and brainwashed into serving an alien army. His Vulcan crewmate Tuvok tracked him down; Chatokay brandished a phaser and bellowed, “Prove that you are Tuvok!” Tuvok said, “I will… if you lower your weapon.” This convinced Chatokay right away.

          Third: as an agnostic, I do not affirm the existence of God, nor deny; but I might at times want to discuss God. How to do so? By preceding each speculation about the nature of God with the phrase “If God exists, then…” This allows both imaginative freedom and intellectual integrity.

 

On the Misanthropic Principle

            On the Misanthropic Principle

 

             Cosmologists recently have been speculating about an “anthropic principle”, an alleged fine-tuning of the constants of physics in favor of life. I am skeptical; until astronomers get observations of alternate possible universes, there is no way to tell what the odds are for life for universes in general. We can only observe this universe.

            And when we observe this universe, do we see one fine-tuned for life? I think not. 99.99999+ percent of the universe, by volume, is cold dark irradiated vacuum, utterly devoid of all life, and indeed of much anything. Of the small fraction that’s not hard vacuum, most of it is star fire.

            In fact we know of only one planet with life on it, our own. Mars just might have bacteria on it, and maybe there’s life under the ice on Europa, or in Enceladus, or on Titan. Maybe. But even if every moon and every planet in the entire universe were crammed with life, still life would remain a minuscule fraction of the universe, whether measured by space, mass/energy, or information. And it took the universe 13,800,000,000 years to produce what little life it has.

            Therefore the universe, considered as an engine for generating life, is remarkably inefficient. In fact I say that it is fine-tuned, but not for the production of life, but against it. It isn’t 100% lifeless, so it isn’t perfectly tuned against life, but it is 99.999999+% lifeless, and that’s pretty good fine tuning.

            I call that the Misanthropic Principle. It states that the Universe is so made to have as little life in it as possible. To confirm this, you need merely go outdoors one night and point your telescope at the Moon.

            Looking at the night sky leads me to suspect that the universe is fine-tuned for the production of cold dark irradiated vacuum. What purpose that serves escapes me.

 

Underfable: Autoimmune Reaction

         Underfable: Autoimmune Reaction

 

          Once upon a time, the Equalest of the Anti-Sex League bellowed to the crowd, “Double-plus-ungood oldthink!” She pointed at a four-word graffito spray-painted onto the wall of Miniluv headquarters. “That doublethink is UnIngsoc!” The crowd roared.

          She raged, “It says ‘Big Brother is Goldstein’? It says ‘Big Brother is Goldstein’?! What unperson dares utter such duckspeak? It unbellyfeels Big Brother!” The crowd cheered. “It goodspeaks the Hated One!” The crowd booed. “And plus-ungood yet, these words are sexcrime! For ‘Big Brother’ is prole-speak for…” she paused, took a huge breath, and sang out, “the stand-upping man-part!” The crowd gasped. “Yes!” she wailed. “And ‘Goldstein’ is prole-speak for that man-part gone soft!” Men howled, women fainted.

          With crimson face and heaving breasts, the Equalest of the Anti-Sex League ranted, “Destroy that crimethink! Memory-hole it! Make it never was! Speedwise blot the words, smash the words, smash the wall!”

          The rioters tore down that wall and set the Ministry of Love ablaze. The next day, that same graffito, copied by a dozen different hands, appeared on Minitrue, Minipax and every other Party headquarters in town. The day after that, all those buildings lay in ruins.

 

          Moral:  Big Brother is Goldstein.

 

          Comment: An autoimmune reaction is when an antigen provokes the immune system to attack its own body. Even a smidgen of antigen can be fatal. Here it took only four words of smutty proletarian slang.