Friday, July 28, 2017

The king of France -- vacuously speaking

Russell's Theory of Descriptions is still a subject of philosophical discussion, though the theory dates to his Principles of Mathematics published in 1903. His King of France problem, which was posed in Principles, raised for him some issues concerning descriptions.

Yet, that problem, as a matter of strict logic, is easily resolved. I leave the meta-logical issues unaddressed.

Problem:

1. The current king of France is bald.
2. The current king of France is not bald.

How should these two sentences be reconciled, considering that, as France is no monarchy, a statement and its negation both seem to be false?

Solution (not Russell's):

We formulate Russell's puzzle thus:

1. If x is the reigning king of France, x is bald.
2. If x is the reigning king of France, x is not bald.

or, equivalently,

1a. x reigns in France implies x is bald.
1b. x reigns in France implies x is not bald.

It is immediate that both sentences are true under the generally
accepted rules of propositional logic.

'P implies Q' is true when P is false; 'P implies ~Q' also holds when P is false.
That is, a false statement implies anything.

Sometimes statements such as 1. and 2. are called "vacuously true."

Russell, I suppose, was worried about this form:

2. x reigns in France implies x is both bald and not bald.

Hmmm. How can even a nonexistent thing be defined by contradiction? There is no square circle in normal parlance. Nor can there be even a notional king who is simultaneously bald and not bald.

But, this concern evaporates if we put 2. into its equivalent form:

2a. x reigns in France implies x is bald and x reigns in France implies x is not bald.

Item 2a can be expressed

2b. [(P implies Q) & (P implies ~Q)].

The entire statement in braces is true! P does indeed imply both Q and Q's negation. 

2c. P implies (Q & ~Q)

I suppose it is this particular form that prodded Russell to mull over descriptions. Yet, 2c is true. The contradiction (Q & ~Q) is always false, and, as P is false, we have a falsehood implying a falsehood, which yields a truthful implication.

It also should be noticed that the negation ~(P implies Q) is (P doesn't imply Q). The fact that ~Q negates Q is not relevant in this case.

To wit,

3. [(P implies Q) & (P doesn't imply Q)] is always false,

as can be seen by

3a. [(x reigns in France implies x is bald) & (x reigns in France doesn't imply x is bald)]

Similarly,

4. [(P implies ~Q) & (P doesn't imply ~Q)] is also always false,

as is plain in

4a. [(x reigns in France implies x isn't bald) & (x reigns in France doesn't imply x isn't bald)].

Russell, along with the mathematical philosopher A.N. Whitehead helped usher in the era of symbolic, mathematical logic with their Principia Mathematica, published after Russell's Principles.

Russell, in a discussion of proper names, notes, "Although France is now a republic, I can make statements about the present king of France which, though false, are not meaningless. But if I pretend that he is called Louis XIX, any statement in which 'Louis XIX' is used as a name will be meaningless, not false." The context of that statement was his Great War-era concept of a logic language that could stand in for, say, English. Russell recalls that thinking in My Philosophical Development (Simon and Schuster 1959).
Russell's problem on the author of Waverley is one of three examples given in his Theory of Descriptions. The Waverley problem even fascinated Godel (see his paper in The Philosophy of Bertrand Russell, Paul Arthur Schilpp ed., Library of Living Philosophers, 1946). The Waverley poser is discussed in a recent Cosmosis post.
Philosophy Professor Thomas C. Ryckman's excellent page on 3 Russell problems:
https://www2.lawrence.edu/fast/ryckmant/Russell's%20Theory%20of%20Descriptions.htm



Wednesday, July 26, 2017

A Socratic dialog on abortion

I published this dialog in September 2015 on another blog from which I have been locked out.
I am preserving it, with some additional discussion inserted, on Cosmosis.
You are free to reproduce this dialog.
"S" is Socrates and "T" is some Tom, Dick or Harry.


S: Is there a fundamental right to abortion?

T:  Of course.

S:  So any woman has a right to terminate her pregnancy for any reason?

T:  Undoubtedly.

S:  Well, suppose the preborn being -- or perhaps we might say potential human -- experiences pain during the termination process?

T:  As the, er, being is not viable, how can it experience pain?

S:  If there are physiological studies that show that the being's reactions are consistent with a viable infant's feeling of pain, would that be relevant?

T:  Well, then you are only talking about what might be.

S:  So if there is a possibility that the being in the womb experiences pain during abortion, that possibility is of no relevance to society?

T:  Not to society, but that consideration might affect a woman's personal decision.

S:  None of society's business?

T:  No.

S:  So if a woman decides to terminate a pregnancy for trivial or shallow reasons, that is her affair.

T:  Yes.

S:  In many cases, the decision for abortion is economically based, as when the family of a young woman presses her to abort so that she can go on to an economically prosperous life, or when a woman aborts the being in her womb because she has enough children and doesn't want one more mouth to feed. Is that correct?

T:  Economic issues are plainly a driving force behind abortion.

S:  Also, many women resent the idea that a male-dominated society may control a woman's right to reproduce. So-called reproductive rights.

T:  Yes, very true.

S:  What is it that she doesn't want reproduced?

T:  Another human, but that's only after birth. Before birth, the quality of humanity doesn't exist.

S:  So you say. Others would say, before the first trimester. And there are yet other ideas. So there is little agreement about when the being in the womb becomes a bona fide human being.  Anyway, wouldn't you agree that "reproduce" means reproduce oneself?

T:  Well, the child is not a clone. The father's genes contribute.

S:  So she is reproducing herself and her sex partner.

T:  I suppose.

S:  And that reproduction is in progress in the womb. So is she not destroying a reproduction of herself?

T:  You are just playing word games.

S:  And the male sex partner? Should he have no legal say in the preservation of a reproduction of himself?

T:  Of course not. The reproduction hasn't occurred yet at the time of abortion.

S:  Oh. But I thought that at conception, the genes begin the reproduction process. So doesn't the preborn being represent a partial reproduction of the male?

T:  I suppose so. But you know very well that to give the male any legal say would upset the world since the day Roe vs. Wade was decided. Besides, the man doesn't have to suffer the trials of pregnancy and giving birth.

S:  Yet, a part of the man, a potential daughter or son, has been destroyed. I suppose to a materialist like yourself that doesn't matter much?

T:  Well, these things are all relative. There are no absolutes.

S:  No absolutes? Except for the absolute right to abortion, of course.

T:  We are clever, aren't we?

S:  But it is a fact, is it not, that scientific materialism is your default philosophy?

T:  Well, I am no philosopher, but I would agree that science is better than superstition.

S:  And you have heard of the atheist philosopher Bertrand Russell?

T:  Who hasn't?

S:  But no doubt you are unaware that Russell and a number of other philosophers have attacked scientific materialism as deeply flawed?

T:  Really? I had no idea. What do they propose in its place?

S:  Would you be perturbed if I told you that there is no consensus, that no one seems to know what to make of the Cosmos, or Being?

T:  Yes, all very well. But as I say, I am no philosopher.

.S:  You concede you don't know why there is a fundamental right to abortion?

T:  Well, Rights of Man -- I mean Human Rights -- and all that sort of thing.

S:  I see... Well, you do agree that a woman has a right to terminate a pregnancy for economic reasons.

T: Correct.

S:  So then, a woman -- perhaps in consultation with her partner -- has a right to terminate a pregnancy based on the sex, or gender, of the being in the womb.

T:  I don't quite follow.

S:  She has a right to terminate a pregnancy based on sex preference.

T:  It's a trivial reason, but I suppose it is none of society's business.

S:  Now suppose a large number of women preferentially abort females? Would that be acceptable?

T:  It doesn't sound right, but fortunately that isn't the case.

S:  What do you think feminists would think of such a practice?

T:  They would probably try to outlaw it.

S:  So then society does have an interest in maintaining the life of a being in the womb?

T:  Your scenario is not the case.

S:  You are wrong; it is a fact. In India, couples routinely terminate females in the womb for socioeconomic reasons. Further, there is a shortage of brides there, which is the consequence of this practice. India's laws against revealing the sex of the being in the womb have proved ineffective.

T:  Well, point. But this isn't India.

S:  The original question was, Is there a fundamental right to abortion?

T:  Ah, I see what you mean. If we must go by cases, there isn't a fundamental, all-encompassing right.

S:  So society is permitted to take an interest in the welfare of the being in the womb?

T:  I would say you have made a good case. But, unfortunately for you, most people think in memes, and won't follow philosophical arguments.

S:  Agreed.

The night before the procedure, I asked the baby to forgive me

https://www.sarahmae.com/abortion

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

When is truth vacuous? Is infinity a bunch of nothing?

Herewith a bit of fun. I daresay my understanding has evolved since publication.
Someone has my gratitude for preserving this "lost" piece on Archive, where I discovered it recently.
Also please see

'Vacuous truth' step by step
http://madmathzera.blogspot.com/2017/10/vacuous-truth-step-by-step.html


Welcome to N-fold, a [now defunct] web site for oft-eccentric thoughts on math and science.

Often in mathematics, we hear that a statement is vacuously true. Just what is vacuous truth?

An email discussion on vacuous truth took place  in May 2001 among Amherst logician Dan Velleman, who wrote the introductory logic text, How to Prove It (Cambridge 1994), math columnist John Paulos, of Temple University, who has written professionally on logic, Cornell topologist Jim Conant, and Conant's dad, math student Paul Conant.

The discussion arose after Jim pointed out that statements of the form "all a e A P(a)" are always true if A is empty [the letter "e" is the element symbol], prompting Paul to attempt a general definition of "vacuous truth."

[Paul's idea for an alternative set theory axiom stating that no set with an infinite number of elements exists, which appears near the bottom of this webpage, was not discussed by the professional mathematicians, nor did they discuss his remarks on 'nebulous' prime conjectures.]

Jim's point arose in a discussion of vacuously true relations in which Dan noted that, if A is empty, then
all a e A((a,a) e R) and all a e A((a,a) ~e R)
are both true statements.

Paul then proposed that a vacuously true statement be defined as one in which modus ponens (and modus tollens) does not hold, but Dan objected.



Paul:

" [If] p-->q and p is known to be false [and so] modus ponens can't be used to infer q [then] p-->q is vacuously true."

Dan:

"Well, it depends on what you mean by this. Of course, to apply modus ponens you have to have both p and p-->q. It might be argued that if p-->q is vacuously true, then a situation in which you might try to use modus ponens to infer q from p and p-->q will never arise: if p is known to be false, then we would never be in a situation of knowing that both p and p-->q are true, so we would never want to apply modus ponens.
But sometimes we assume something, for the sake of argument, that turns out later to have been false. (For example, proof by contradiction.)
If we have assumed p, and we know p-->q, then we should be allowed to infer q, even if we find out later that p was actually false.
Otherwise, we'd really be handicapped when doing proof by contradiction.
So it might be dangerous to impose some sort of ban on uses of modus ponens with vacuously true implications.
In fact, there is no need for such a ban, because the following statement is true.

If p is true and p-->q is vacuously true, then q is true.

Of course, the reason that this statement is true is that it is vacuously true!"

Paul:

"But, personally, I feel more comfortable with a definition of vacuous truth.
For example, when you say in your text (page 271), 'But because there are no natural numbers smaller than 0, the statement all k<0 P(k) is vacuously true,' I want to know the definition of vacuous truth.
And when we conclude that, if A is empty, the statement all a e A P(a) is vacuously true, I want justification (perhaps I overlooked such a justification or implicit justification in your book).
"So, avoiding the terms 'modus ponens' and 'modus tollens,' we can still define vacuous truth in accord with [an] email I sent you.
That is, a statement is vacuously true with respect to p if (p-->q) & ~p (which equals ~p v q).
It is nonvacuously true if (p-->q) & p (which equals p & q).
A statement (~q-->~p) & q (which equals q v ~p) is vacuously true with respect to q.
A statement (~q-->~p) & ~q (which equals ~p & ~q) is nonvacuously true.
So, when you say

if p and (p-->q) is vacuously true

I'm not sure what that means.
That is, if p is true and p-->q is true, I would hold that p-->q is perforce nonvacuously true."
[The above email has been lightly edited and minor corrections have been made.]

Dan:

"Right. And therefore the statement 'p is true and p-->q is vacuously true' is always false. And therefore the statement "If p is true and p-->q is vacuously true, then q is true' is vacuously true.
I.e., it has the form A-->B (where A is the false statement 'p is true and p-->q is vacuously true' and B is the statement 'q is true'), and it is vacuously true because A is false."

Paul:

"That's a good one. Does that mean my last definition of vacuous truth is already commonly accepted among logicians?"

John:

"I don't know if your definition is the commonly accepted one of 'vacuously true' or indeed if there is a commonly accepted one."

John also wrote:

"There may indeed be a technical definition such as yours for 'vacuous truth.' More commonly, however, the term is used roughly to mean 'empty,' 'devoid of content,' or even simply 'tautological'."

Paul:

"John's assertion that there is lack of clarity among mathematicians on the meaning of vacuous truth demonstrates a need for general agreement on a specific definition.
Clearly, Dan's definition of vacuous truth--which is implied in his clever "(p & (p-->q is vacuously true) requires that q is true)--is the same as the definition I suggest.

Dan:

"I think the term 'vacuously true' is usually used for a statement of the form 'for all x in A, P(x),' where A is the empty set. For example, 'All unicorns are purple' is vacuously true. If you paraphrase this as, 'If something is a unicorn, then it is purple,' then it fits your definition.
But probably most mathematicians would be more likely to recognize the term as appropriate in the case of a statement written using 'for all,' rather than 'if ... then.'

Replying to Dan, Paul:

"I now recall something about 'purple unicorns' in your text.
This exchange has proved helpful to me because I can see that a vacuously true statement is [equivalent to a statement] composed of two statements linked by the 'or' connective and a nonvacuously true statement is [equivalent to a statement] composed of two statements linked by the 'and' connective. And [I see that] the negation of a vacuously true statement is nonvacuously true, and the converse.
"So if I run across two statements that at first glance appear contradictory, as in
a e A --> (a,a) e R and a e A --> (a,a) ~e R, I should check for the possibility of vacuous truth."

Paul adds:

"And the tautology p is both vacuously true and nonvacuously true since

p --> p & p = p = p v p = p & p

The same holds for ~p."

Jim suggested that mathematicians would understand the term 'vacuous truth' from the context in which it was used.
"But, as an often dull student, I prefer exactness.
For example, I had long been under the impression that the fundamental of set theory that states that the empty set is a subset of every set was an axiom. But in fact it is a derivable theorem.
That is, if A is a subset of B, the definition of A is:

x e A --> x e B

or,

(x ~e A) v (x e B)

Since x ~e A is true for the null set, the statement above is vacuously true, as is the statement (x ~e A) v (x ~e B).

We know that if p --> q is vacuously true, then the statement p --> ~q is also vacuously true. Curiously, these statements are, in a sense, equivalent. That is, in a vacuously true statement of this form it is irrelevant whether q is true or not. In fact, by vacuously true, we are saying ~p is true and q is undetermined.
I have seen the term 'vacuous implication' loosely used to describe this state of affairs. That is, if the statement p-->q is vacuously true, then q is not implied by p because ~p is true."

Paul wondered about the meaningfulness of the concept 'power set of the reals':

"If R is nodenumerable, then P(R) is nondenumerable, meaning perhaps that it exists in a 'vacuous' sense."

Jim:

"I don't know what you mean. P(R) is nondenumerable but why does that make its existence 'vacuous'? I would on the contrary say that it is highly nonvacuous since it has so many elements. Perhaps you mean that nondenumerable sets are 'fishy,' and only exist as a mathematical abstraction."

Paul remarks:

"If we accept John's point that a 'vacuously true' statement may be interpreted as one that is empty of meaning, then it is possible to argue that the power set of an infinite number of elements doesn't exist in totality, or that perhaps it 'exists' courtesy of a vacuous definition.

If P(R) is held to exist, then (let [_ be the general subset symbol):

x e P(R) <--> x [_ R

but if P(R) is held to not exist, then

x e P(R) --> x [_ R

is vacuously true

though

x [_ R --> x e P(R) is false

This brings us to Cantor's paradox. That is cardU < cardP(U) and cardP(U) < cardU are both statements that can be proved.

If we say that

at least one x but not all x [_ U <--> at least one x but not all x e P(U)

is true, we can then assert that when "all" elements of P(U) are considered collectively, the elements vanish and P(U) becomes empty. Likewise, when considering "all" the subsets of U.
In that case

all x e P(U)(x [_ U <--> x e P(U))

is vacuously true in both directions.

but

at least one but not all x e P(U)(x [_ U <--> P(U))

is nonvacuously true.

This is analagous to

Sn =  {the set of straight line segments in a symmetrical n-gon.}

at lim n-> inf., Sn becomes empty.

We can take this approach to Russell's paradox, which can be stated:

R = {A e U|A ~e A}, meaning

A e R <--> A ~e A,

giving rise to

R e R <--> R ~e R

Letting S = U\R, we can write (with u the union symbol)

all x e U(x e U <--> x e RuS)

and say that U and RuS become empty at the limit. Hence, at the limit, the statement is vacuously true in both directions, but

at least one x but not all x e U(x e U <--> x e RuS)

Russell's paradox however can be found in a set of one element."

PAUL ADDS (June 2001):

"I have found it conceptually important to be aware of this lemma of vacuous truth:

lemma: if p --> q is vacuously true, then p --> ~q is vacuously true.

Another way to see this is: p --> q v ~q and restate the lemma:

p --> q is vacuously true iff q --> ~(p & q).

For example, in the case of the infinite symmetrical n-gon, let us say Sn = { f | f is a facet which has more than one point}. Taking n to infinity means Sn is empty.
If we say
~some f e Sn(f has more than one point),
we can translate this as
all f e Sn ~(f has more than one point)
or
all f e Sn(f has less than two points)
or
f e Sn --> f has less than two points.

This is 'counterintuitive' because the consequent is false.

We can also write:

~all f e Sn(f has more than one point)

or

some f e Sn(f has fewer than two points)

Since f ~e Sn, the predicate is false for both the universal and existential quantifiers, meaning it is irrelevant whether the subject is true or false. In this case, we know it is false. In other cases, we may not know the truth value; in other cases we may get true as a value.

That is, I think that writing that  p --> q is vacuously true only if  q --> ~(p & q), is better than saying simply that if p --> q is vacuously true, then ~p v q holds.

It may seem silly, but to me the lemma has psychological value. The lemma means that if the predicate is false, then it is irrelevant whether the subject is true or false."

A THREE-PART SET THEORY AXIOM

So perhaps we may consider an alternative set theory axiom:

'(i.) A class is a statement defining the elements of a set.
'(ii.) Any set has a finite number of elements.
'(iii.) For any set S, the statements "S e S" is undefined.'

Suppose X = {x|x = 1}. In that case, X is a set; x means an arbitrary element of X; and 1 is a distinct, or identified, element of X. The statement (x = 1) is a class.
You may say that there are sets which are members of themselves.

For example, without our axiom, one can write:

S = {s e S| s is a set identified by the letter S}. In that case S e S. Our axiom simply says that S e S is roughly equivalent to division by zero. Clearly, this sub-axiom is equivalent to Zermelo-Fraenkel axiom  which asserts that a set is always disjoint from at least one of its elements.

Russell's paradox stems from:

R = {A e U|A ~e A}

By (ii.), R is not a set because the definition does not require n elements.
If R contains no elements, then r e R <--> a ~e A is vacuously true in both directions and there is no paradox.
Suppose R = {R e U|R ~e R}, or r e R <--> R ~e R. Then, if r = R, in that case R e R and we have a contradiction -- even if R contains only one element.
Though (iii) forbids the question R e R, we are entitled to ask whether R ~e R. Since R ~e R --> R e R, which is undefined, we can then agree that R ~e R tells us there is at least one case where A ~e A is undefined.

Speaking of classes covering infinitudes, the statement 'r is a number equal to p/q or not equal to p/q' does not here imply r e R. R is not the set but the statement, or, that is, the class. Even so, R can be an element of a finite set. (The notation r e R would need to be revised; perhaps r d. R, for 'any case r as defined by R.')

If X is a class, x e X is untrue and x ~e X is always true. Hence X is logically equivalent to the empty set. However, X does not equal the empty set because the empty set exists.
Yet the equivalence is meaningful because we can say that X is equinumerous with the empty set, or cardN = cardP(N) = cardR = cardP(R) = card0.
This axiom does not mean we cannot loosely use a phrase such as "all reals." Nor does it necessarily nullify various limit proofs.

We handle a concept such as "the infinitude of primes" like this:
There is a class of objects (we don't define 'object' other than by saying that it is a "case" defined by the condition of the class) such that between n/2 and n, at least one prime occurs for ANY n.
We might express the statement:

Any n d. N( [n/2,n] --> prime)

(Here N is a statement defining the object of natural number.)

In other words, if a statement is inductively true -- i.e.,  a nonstop recursion algorithm holds -- we need not then say that an infinite set exists. It is sufficient to know that the statement is true for any defined object. (Yes, but precisely what is an algorithm? you say. My page of that title may be reached via the N-fold link. Let me insert that I am under the impression that Alonzo Church invented  the lamda calculus in order to circumvent classical set theory.)
Of course, the perception of infinite set arose from the notion of "actual infinity" associated with an irrational number. The seemingly contrasting notion of "potential inifinity" simply reinforces the concept of actual infinity because in an absolute, platonic or timeless sense, if an object potentially exists, then it already exists, or exists beyond time.
So here we are not arguing for infinity, potential or actual, which requires the universal quantifier to read "all." Rather, with this axiom we are arguing that when the upside down A is applied to nonstop recursion statements, it is to be read "any."
Addressing irrationals, we introduce the term 'not-object': an object that is defined by what it is not.
Not-objects can also be used for rationals, as we explain:
We write a nonstop recursion formula that builds nested intervals, with any interval a finite length shorter than the previous interval and with endpoint a measurable distance from origin.
So the not-object in this formula is a nested interval of 0 length. It is defined as, for any step n, not any previous interval, though within the interval at step n.
Does the not-object exist? Well, it sure is handy to have such a limit point. So why not agree that it exists? But to agree that it exists does not mean that the infinite set N exists.
After all, we can't fundamentally prove most such points exist since we can only use approximations to "measure" their distance from origin.
Such nonstop recursion functions can be used to obtain rationals and irrationals. But most irrationals are not subject to measure by ruler and compass or other finite step algorithms (square and cube roots are an exception).
In fact, a way to define a class of irrationals is to say that such an irrational's so-called limiting value can be defined only by nonstop recursion algorithm.
In the same vein, a circle, rather than being construed as a so-called limit of n-gon approximations, is agreed to exist because there is a non-stop recursion algorithm which inductively means that as n increases, the approximation of a circle is 'closer.' Any such symmetrical n-gon is finite. The circle does not exist as an n-gon but is an axiomatic form.
We would not then say that a circle perimeter contains an infinite set of points. Rather, it is possible to devise a nonstop recursion algorithm to divide a circle perimeter into ever smaller arcs through intersection by rays. A circle then can have any finite number of arcs.
The same kind of reasoning holds for a line, also an axiomatic form.
So to say that we can map the set N onto a unit length line would be recast: We know that a nonstop recursion algorithm exists for dividing a line segment into ever shorter lengths. That is, n d. N(1/n --> number of subdivisions).
A line, really, is a not-object, because it can't be drawn. Having 0 width, it may be said, perhaps, to be an edge or boundary between plane parts, a plane being another axiomatic object. The line exists as not-part A and not-part B.
In a like manner, the curve f(x) -- which could be a line of course -- is a not-object. One can't see the curve f(x). It is invisible. It may, for example, be defined by the area beneath a part of it or by the length of an arc for a portion of it.
But f(x) between a and b is said to exist because there exists at least one algorithm where, the higher step n, the  closer to a limiting value. So, we say any x d. R(f(x)--> z  < L) or, depending on the algorithm and the curve, any x d. R(f(x)--> z > L)  rather than all x e R(f(x)-->(z<L) v z>L)).
That is, the integral of f(x) means that we can find at least one algorithm where the step m area < the step n area < L, or the step m area > the step n area > L.
Does the area L exist? In a platonic sense, yes. But it is sufficient for us to know that such an algorithm exists. That knowledge is equivalent to the assertion that such an area exists.
Though our alternative axiom might be construed as in the intuitionist camp, I'm really a fan of Cantor. However, it seems useful to look at non-Cantorian possibilities.
At some future point, I hope to discuss on another N-fold page quasi-Cantorian ideas about irrationals.

++++++
Vacuous truth in the sense that John mentions can be seen from tautologies such as all x e X(x e X) and E!x e X(x' e X) [where E is the existential quantifier and x' means a unique element].
Suppose the writer says that all x e X(x e X) is vacuously true. Does he mean the tautology x e X --> x e X or does he mean the specific case of x ~e X?
We define an element as x = (y,z), where y is the general condition, held constant for X, pertaining to all x, and z is the condition that makes an element unique. (In passing, we note that x = (y,y) means z' = y. Because y is a general property, there can be no property to distinguish elements. Hence x = (y,y) means either X is empty or X has one  element. And (z,z) = (y,y).)
So every element of X has the general property of being an element of X. But we take this for granted unless it is specified that y means x e X.
I actually introduced this notation in order to get another insight into Russell's paradox.
Russell's paradox can be seen as stemming from one of those annoying infinitely recursive [nested] definitions: rob Peter to pay Paul and then rob Paul to pay Peter, ad infinitum.
Let the general property of x = (y,z) be y = (s' = S), or
x = ((s'=S),z).

If X e X, then let x' = X and z' = (x'=X), giving,

X = x' = ((s'=S),(x'=X))

The dog-chasing-its-tail effect of this definition is apparent. This is also true for x'=/=X, even though this inequality is usually true (or always true by our axiom).
That is, the issue stems from the need to define a set by its elements and an element by its set.

Another thought on Russell's paradox: We know that for sets A and B,   A<-->B means A = B. The same is not necessarily true for statements p and q. That is, p<-->q does not necessarily mean p=q. For example, if p means x<y<z and q means y>x, p=/=q but p<-->q.
Now if we transform R = {a e A|A ~e A} to r e R <--> A ~e A, we may regard r e R as a statement p. As long as we don't "observe" the meaning of the statement, we can be satisfied that equalities don't necessarily result from biconditional statements.

ELUSIVE PRIME CONJECTURES

Vacuousness in the general sense also seems to arise from such prime conjectures as the twin prime and Mersenne prime posers. Is there an infinitude of twin primes of form p+2 (where p is an arbitrary prime)? Is there an infinitude of Mersenne primes of form 2^p - 1?
The probability that any integer n is prime approaches 0 as n approaches infinity. Yet, the probability is never 0 for an arbitrary integer n.
But what about the probability that there is an infinitude of twin primes? Primes occur pseudorandomly (that is, can only be reliably predicted by recursive algorithm). The condition that p+2 is not prime (where p is a prime) cannot so far be proved nonrecursively, nor inductively.
So, though the probable occurrence of primes decreases with n, the probability that p+2 will occur at least once after some arbitrary m, rises with n. Hence the probability that there is an infinitude of twin (or Mersenne) primes equals 1 at infinity.
Hold up, you say. Something's wrong here. We do not accept this probability as valid because the conclusion is not arrived at inductively. Perhaps circular reasoning is the culprit.
Yet the question is, 'Is there an infinitude of twin primes'?
So what is meant by infinite set of twin primes? If, at the limit, the probability is 1 that the twin and Mersenne prime conjectures hold, why do we suspect the truthfulness or reliability of this probability? It is after all only valid for an infinitude.
We don't like it perhaps because of Euclid's proof of the infinitude of primes. Suppose we forget Euclid. What is the probability that there is an infinitude of primes? Again after some arbitrary m, the probability rises with n, reaching 1 at lim n->inf. Why would we not accept that the statistical truth is truth, since we cannot examine every element of N?
Yes, but perhaps someone will prove that one of the conjectures is false. We cannot, so far, prove that someone will not prove such a conjecture false.
Even so, the case for undecidability is strong. Primes cannot be infallibly forecast by algebraic formula, nor can composites be infallibly forecast by algebraic formula. This means that at infinity there is no algebraic description of a prime.
And both twin primes and Mersenne primes decrease faster than the primes decrease, so no proof can cite increasing density.
Now if it is someday proved that the conjectures are undecidable in a nonstatistical sense, would we then be willing to accept the statistical probability as truth?

All this may seem like flogging a dead horse, but, dull student that I often am, I need the extra detail sometimes. For example, It took me an embarrassingly long time to see the right answer to the Monty Hall problem."  For more on that, hit the N-fold link until reaching a 'Monty Hall' link.

A discussion of the ZF infinity axiom and euclidean space can [no longer] be found via the N-fold link.

Note to self on shortcomings as an essayist

You enjoy exploiting the work of others to stimulate intellectual insights. Granted, sometimes these insights shed a fair degree of illumination. But a serious problem is that you have a journalistic tendency to string insights and interesting tidbits together, later smoothing out dubious or ragged transitions (if you bother). The resulting essay may have some merit, but all too often the underlying purpose is hidden in a jungle of tangential themes. Unfortunately such a style may leave the reader puzzled as to what you are driving at.

This problem stems from your habit of working from a large number of notes, and also from, after the fact, trying to tack on material that is interesting and related. You might do better to write the outline of your essay without relying heavily on notes. Once you have a fairly good structure and have written your basic points, then you can weave in material from the notes -- if warranted.

Worse is your tendency to play Know-It-All. Aggravating. More humility needed.

Then there are the logico-mathematical blunders that insinuate themselves into your work. Sometimes the issue is straightforward brain freeze. At other times you become overconfident about some idea and plunge ahead heedless of the danger. And quite often such errors result from your attempt to analyze some point that isn't terribly relevant.

On occasion mathematician correspondents will point out an oversight or error, in which case at least you try to repair the damage. But even so the error has been propagated online in the meantime. At present, a number of your errors remain online for years as you have lost control of those pages. Quite often the issue is simply that you have no one close at hand with whom you can discuss such things. And of course these lapses obscure what you do get right, which on infrequent occasion has merit.

Monday, July 10, 2017

An objection to Proposition 1 of Tractatus


We know that Wittgenstein's views evolved far afield from his initial bombshell Tractatus But why should that prevent us from discussing his discarded ideas? Tractatus remains relevant as a work standing on its own merit.
This critique was posted in January 2002. I have made some editorial changes, which include corrections in logic transformations, as of July 2017.


From Wittgenstein's Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, Proposition 1:
1     The world is all that is the case.
1.1   The world is the totality of facts, not of things.
1.11  The world is determined by the facts, and by
        their being all the facts.
1.12  For the totality of facts determines what is the
        case, and also whatever is not the case.
1.13  The facts in logical space are the world.
1.2   The world divides into facts.
1.21  Each item can be the case or not the case while everything
        else remains the same.
We include also two other of Wittgenstein's claims as relevant to our discussion.
2     What is the case—a fact—is the existence of atomic facts.
2.01  An atomic fact is a combination of objects (entities, things).
According to Ray Monk's astute biography, Ludwig Wittgenstein, the Duty of Genius (Free Press division of Macmillan 1990), Gottlob Frege aggravated Wittgenstein by apparently never getting beyond the first page of Tractatus and quibbling over definitions.

And yet it seems to me that there is merit in taking exception to the initial assumption, even if perhaps definitions can be clarified. As we know, Wittgenstein later repudiated the theory of pictures that underlay the Tractatus; nevertheless, a great value of Tractatus is the compression of concepts that makes the book a gold mine of topics for discussion.

First, however, I recast the quoted propositions as follows:

1.     The world is a theorem [i.e., the perceived world is organized in
           accord with a master theorem, which as yet remains
           fuzzily, if at all, understood].
1.1    The world is the set of all theorems, not of things [a thing 
           requires definition and this definition is either a 'higher'
           theorem or an axiom].
1.12   The set of all theorems determines what is accepted
           as true and what is not.
1.13   The set of theorems is the world [redundancy acknowledged].
2.     It is a theorem -- a true proposition -- that axioms 
           exist [the existence of axioms is axiomatic].
My reinterpretation, I hope, helps us identify with the desires of philosophers such as Bertrand Russell, A.N. Whitehead, David Hilbert and others to form a modern, physicalist framework for reality. After all, is not Tractatus founded in Wittgenstein's extensive mining of Principia Mathematica by Russell and Whitehead, along with his for fascination with Russell's paradox?

Rather than cope with the vast Principia, let us instead consider a toy system S of logic based on two axioms. We can build all theorems and anti-theorems of S from the axioms (though we cannot necessarily solve basic philosophical issues).

With p and q as axioms (atomic propositions that can't be durther divided by connectives and other symbols except for vacuous tautologies and contradictions), we can begin:
1. p, 2. ~p
3. q, 4. ~q
and call these 4 statements the Level 0 set of theorems and anti-theorems. If we say 'it is true that p is a theorem' or 'it is true that ~p is an anti-theorem' then we must use a higher order system of numbering. That is, such a statement must be numbered in such a way as to indicate that it is a statement about a statement.

We now can form set Level 1:
5. pq [theorem]

6. ~(pq) [anti-theorem]
7. p v q

8. ~(~p~q)
9. p v ~q

10. ~(~pq)
11. ~p v q

12. ~(p~q)
Level 2 is composed of all possible combinations of p's, q's and connectives (as we can do without the implication arrow), with Level 1 statements combined with Level 2 statements, being a subset of Level 2.

By wise choice of numbering system, we can associate any positive integer with a statement. Also, the truth value of any statement can be ascertained by the truth table method of analyzing such statements. And, it may be possible to find the truth value of statement n by knowing the truth value of sub-statement m, so that reduction to axioms can be avoided in the interest of efficiency -- as long as the Deduction Theorem has already been satisfied.

So I have no objection to trying to establish an abstract system using axioms. But the concept of a single system as having a priori existence gives pause, even without the ontological results of Goedel and Turing. And significantly, I would say, the early Wittgenstein has proposed a set of axioms which he has divined by some intuitional process. As my reinterpretation shows, it appears that the existence of axioms is axiomatic, not that this is necessarily a bad thing.

If I am to agree with Prop 1, I must qualify it by insisting on the presence of a human mind, so that 1 then means that there is for each mind a corresponding arena of facts. A 'fact' here is a proposition that is assumed true until the mind decides it is false.

I also don't see how we can bypass the notion of 'culture,' which implies a collective set of beliefs and behaviors which acts as an auxiliary memory for each mind that grows within that culture. The interaction of the minds of course yields the evolution of the culture and its collective memory.

Words and word groups are a means of prompting responses from minds (including one's own mind). It seems that most cultures divide words into noun types and verb types. Verbs that cover common occurrences can be noun-ized (gerunds).

A word may be seen as an auditory association with a specific set of stimuli. When an early man shouted to alert his group to imminent danger, he was at the doorstep of abstraction. When he discovered that use of specific sounds to denote specific threats permitted better responses by the group, he passed through the door of abstraction.

Still, we are assuming that such men had a sense of time and motion about like our own. Beings that perceive without resort to time would not develop language akin to modern speech forms.

In other words, their world would not be our world.

Even beings with a sense of time might differ in their perception of reality. The concept of 'now' is quite difficult to define. However, 'now' does appear to have different meaning in accord with metabolic rate. The smallest meaningful moment of a fly is possibly below the threshold of meaningful human perception. A fly might respond to a motion that is too short for a human to cognize as a motion.

Similarly, another lifeform might have a 'now' considerably longer than ours, with the ultimate 'now' being, theoretically, eternity. Some mystics claim such a time sense.

The word 'deer' (perhaps it is an atomic proposition) does not prove anything about the phenomenon with which it is associated. Deer exist even if a word for a deer doesn't. Or does it? The deer exists for us 'because' it has importance for us. That's why we give it a name.

Consider the eskimo who has numerous words for phenomena all of which we English-speakers name 'snow.' We assume that each of these phenomena is an element of a class named 'snow.' But it cannot be assumed that the eskimo perceives these phenomena as types of a single phenomenon. They might be as different as sails and nails as far as he is concerned.

These phenomena are individually named because they are important to him in the sense that his responses to the sets of stimuli that 'signal' a particular phenomenon potentially affect his survival. (We use the word 'signal' reservedly because the mind knows of the phenomenon only through the sensors [which might include unconventional sensors, such as spirit detectors]).

Suppose a space alien arrived on earth and was able to locomote through trees as if they were gaseous. That being might have very little idea of the concept of tree. Perhaps if it were some sort of scientist, using special detection methods, it might categorize trees by type. Otherwise, a tree would not be a self-sevident fact in its world.

What a human is forced to concede is important, at root, is the recurrence of a stimuli set that the memory associates with a pleasure-pain ratio. The brain can add various pleasure-pain ratios as a means of forecasting a probable result.

A stimuli set is normally, but not always, composed of elements closely associated in time. It is when these elements are themselves sets of elements that abstraction occurs.

Much more can be said on the issue of learning, perception and mind but the point I wish to make is that when we come upon logical scenarios, such as syllogisms, we are using a human abstraction or association system that reflects our way of learning and coping with pleasure and pain. The fact that, for example, some pain is not directly physical but is 'worry' does not materially affect my point.

That is, 'reality' is quite subjective, though I have not tried to utterly justify the solipsist point of view. And, if reality is deeply subjective, then the laws of form which seem to describe said reality may well be incomplete.

I suggest this issue is behind the rigid determinism of Einstein, Bohm and Deutsch (though Bohm's 'implicate order' is a subtle and useful concept).

Deutsch, for example, is correct to endorse the idea that reality might be far bigger than ordinarily presumed. Yet, it is his faith that reality must be fully deterministic that indicates that he thinks that 'objective reality' (the source of inputs into his mind) can be matched point for point with the perception system that is the reality he apprehends (subjective reality).

For example, his reality requires that if a photon can go to point A or point B, there must be a reason in some larger scheme whereby the photon must go to either A or B, even if we are utterly unable to predict the correct point. But this 'scientific' assumption stems from the pleasure-pain ratio for stimuli sets in furtherance of the organism's probability of survival. That is, determinism is rooted in our perceptual apparatus. Even 'unscientific' thinking is determinist. 'Causes' however are perhaps identified as gods, demons, spells and counter-spells.

Determinism rests in our sense of 'passage of time.' In the quantum area, we can use a 'Russell's paradox' approach to perhaps justify the Copenhagen interpretation.

Let's use a symmetrical photon interferometer. If a single photon passes through and is left undetected in transit, it reliably exits only in one direction. If, detected in transit, detection results in a change in exit direction in 50 percent of trials. That is, the photon as a wave interferes with itself, exiting in a single direction. But once the wave 'collapses' because of detection, its position is irrevocably fixed and so exits in the direction established at detection point A
or detection point B.

Deutsch, a disciple of Hugh Everett who proposed the 'many worlds' theory, argues that the universe splits into two nearly-identical universes when the photon seems to arbitrarily choose A or B, and in fact follows path A in Universe A and path B in Universe B.

Yet, we might use the determinism of conservation to argue for the Copenhagen interpretation. That is, we may consider a light wave to have a minimum quantum of energy, which we call a quantum amount. If two detectors intercept this wave, only one detector can respond because a detector can't be activated by half a quantum unit. Half a quantum unit is effectively nothing. Well, why are the detectors activated probablistically, you say? Shouldn't some force determine the choice?

Here is where the issue of reality enters. From a classical standpoint, determinism requires energy. Event A at time t0 is linked to event B at ta by an expenditure of energy. But the energy needed for 'throwing the switch on the logic gate' is not present.

We might argue that a necessary feature of a logically consistent deterministic world view founded on discrete calculations requires that determinism is also discrete (not continuous) and hence limited and hence non-deterministic at the quantum level.

Do dice play God?

A discussion of

Irreligion

by John Allen Paulos.


Please contact Conant at krypto...at...gmail...dot....com to report errors or make comments.
Relevant links found at bottom of page.
Posted Nov. 9, 2010. Minor revision posted Sept. 7, 2012. Further minor changes made July 10, 2017.


By PAUL CONANT
John Allen Paulos has done a service by compiling the various purported proofs of the existence of a (monotheistic) God and then shooting them down in his book Irreligion: a mathematician explains why the arguments for God just don't add up.

Paulos, a Temple University mathematician who writes a column for ABC News, would be the first to admit that he has not disproved the existence of God. But, he is quite skeptical of such existence, and I suppose much of the impetus for his book comes from the intelligent design versus accidental evolution controversy [1].

Really, this essay isn't exactly kosher, because I am going to cede most of the ground. My thinking is that if one could use logico-mathematical methods to prove God's existence, this would be tantamount to being able to see God, or to plumb the depths of God. Supposing there is such a God, is he likely to permit his creatures, without special permission, to go so deep?

This essay might also be thought rather unfair because Paulos is writing for the general reader and thus walks a fine line on how much mathematics to use. Still, he is expert at describing the general import of certain mathematical ideas, such as Gregory Chaitin's retooling of Kurt Goedel's undecidability theorem and its application to arguments about what a human can grasp about a "higher power."

Many of Paulos's counterarguments essentially arise from a Laplacian philosophy wherein Newtonian mechanics and statistical randomness rule all and are all. The world of phenomena, of appearances, is everything. There is nothing beyond. As long as we agree with those assumptions, we're liable to agree with Paulos. 

Just because...
Yet a caveat: though mathematics is remarkably effective at describing physical relations, mathematical abstractions are not themselves the essence of being (though even on this point there is a Platonic dispute), but are typically devices used for prediction. The deepest essence of being may well be beyond mathematical or scientific description -- perhaps, in fact, beyond human ken (as Paulos implies, albeit mechanistically, when discussing Chaitin and Goedel) [2].

Paulos's response to the First Cause problem is to question whether postulating a highly complex Creator provides a real solution. All we have done is push back the problem, he is saying. But here we must wonder whether phenomenal, Laplacian reality is all there is. Why shouldn't there be something deeper that doesn't conform to the notion of God as gigantic robot?

But of course it is the concept of randomness that is the nub of Paulos's book, and this concept is at root philosophical, and a rather thorny bit of philosophy it is at that. The topic of randomness certainly has some wrinkles that are worth examining with respect to the intelligent design controversy.

One of Paulos's main points is that merely because some postulated event has a terribly small probability doesn't mean that event hasn't or can't happen. There is a terribly small probability that you will be struck by lightning this year. But every year, someone is nevertheless stricken. Why not you?

In fact, zero probability doesn't mean impossible. Many probability distributions closely follow the normal curve, where each distinct probability is exactly zero, and yet, one assumes that one of these combinations can be chosen (perhaps by resort to the Axiom of Choice). Paulos applies this point to the probabilities for the origin of life, which the astrophysicist Fred Hoyle once likened to the chance of a tornado whipping through a junkyard and leaving a fully assembled jumbo jet in its wake. (Nick Lane in Life Ascending: The Ten Great Inventions of Evolution (W.W. Norton 2009) relates some interesting speculations about life self-organizing around undersea hydrothermal vents. So perhaps the probabilities aren't so remote after all, but, really, we don't know.) 

Shake it up, baby
What is the probability of a specific permutation of heads and tails in say 20 fair coin tosses? This is usually given as 0.520, or about one chance in a million. What is the probability of 18 heads followed by 2 tails? The same, according to one outlook.

Now that probability holds if we take all permutations, shake them up in a hat and then draw one. All permutations in that case are equiprobable [4]. Iintuitively, however, it is hard to accept that 18 heads followed by 2 tails is just as probable as any other ordering. In fact, there are various statistical methods for challenging that idea [5].

One, which is quite useful, is the runs test, which determines the probability that a particular sequence falls within the random area of the related normal curve. A runs test of 18H followed by 2T gives a z score of 3.71, which isn't ridiculously high, but implies that the ordering did not occur randomly with a confidence of 0.999.

Now compare that score with this permutation: HH TTT H TT H TT HH T HH TTT H. A runs test z score gives 0.046, which is very near the normal mean. To recap: the probability of drawing a number with 18 ones (or heads) followed by 2 zeros (or tails) from a hat full of all 20-digit strings is on the order of 10-6. The probability that that sequence is random is on the order of 10-4. For comparison, we can be highly confident the second sequence is, absent further information, random. (I actually took it from irrational root digit strings.)

Again, those permutations with high runs test z scores are considered to be almost certainly non-random [3].

At the risk of flogging a dead horse, let us review Paulos's example of a very well-shuffled deck of ordinary playing cards. The probability of any particular permutation is about one in 1068, as he rightly notes. But suppose we mark each card's face with a number, ordering the deck from 1 to 52. When the well-shuffled deck is turned over one card at a time, we find that the cards come out in exact sequential order. Yes, that might be random luck. Yet the runs test z score is a very large 7.563, which implies effectively 0 probability of randomness as compared to a typical sequence. (We would feel certain that the deck had been ordered by intelligent design.) 

Does not compute
The intelligent design proponents, in my view, are trying to get at this particular point. That is, some probabilities fall, even with a lot of time, into the nonrandom area. I can't say whether they are correct about that view when it comes to the origin of life. But I would comment that when probabilities fall far out in a tail, statisticians will say that the probability of non-random influence is significantly high. They will say this if they are seeking either mechanical bias or human influence. But if human influence is out of the question, and we are not talking about mechanical bias, then some scientists dismiss the non-randomness argument simply because they don't like it.

Another issue raised by Paulos is the fact that some of Stephen Wolfram's cellular automata yield "complex" outputs. (I am currently going through Wolfram's A New Kind of Science (Wolfram Media 2002) carefully, and there are many issues worth discussing, which I'll do, hopefully, at a later date.)

Like mathematician Eric Schechter (see link below), Paulos sees cellular automaton complexity as giving plausibility to the notion that life could have resulted when some molecules knocked together in a certain way. Wolfram's Rule 110 is equivalent to a Universal Turing Machine and this shows that a simple algorithm could yield anycomputer program, Paulos points out.
Paulos might have added that there is a countable infinity of computer programs. Each such program is computed according to the initial conditions of the Rule 110 automaton. Those conditions are the length of the starter cell block and the colors (black or white) of each cell.

So, a relevant issue is, if one feeds a randomly selected initial state into a UTM, what is the probability it will spit out a highly ordered (or complex or non-random) string versus a random string. In other words, what is the probability such a string would emulate some Turing machine? Runs test scores would show the obvious: so-called complex strings will fall way out under a normal curve tail. 

Grammar tool
I have run across quite a few ways of gauging complexity, but, barring an exact molecular approach, it seems to me the concept of a grammatical string is relevant.

Any cell, including the first, may be described as a machine. It transforms energy and does work (as in W = 1/2mv2). Hence it may be described with a series of logic gates. These logic gates can be combined in many ways, but most permutations won't work (the jumbo jet effect).

For example, if we have 8 symbols and a string of length 20, we have 125,970 different arrangements. But how likely is it that a random arrangement will be grammatical?

Let's consider a toy grammar with the symbols a,b,c. Our only grammatical rule is that b may not immediately follow a.

So for the first three steps, abc and cba are illegal and the other four possibilities are legal. This gives a (1/3) probability of error on the first step. In this case, the probability of error at every third step is not independent of the previous probability as can be seen by the permutations:
 abc  bca  acb  bac  cba  cab
That is, for example, bca followed by bac gives an illegal ordering. So the probability of error increases with n.

However, suppose we hold the probability of error at (1/3). In that case the probability of a legal string where n = 30 is less than (2/3)10 = 1.73%. Even if the string can tolerate noise, the error probabilities rise rapidly. Suppose a string of 80 can tolerate 20 percent of its digits wrong. In that case we make our n = 21.333. That is the probability of success is (2/3)21.333 = 0.000175.
And this is a toy model. The actual probabilities for long grammatical strings are found far out under a normal curve tail. 

This is to inform you
A point that arises in such discussions concerns entropy (the tendency toward decrease of order) and the related idea of information, which is sometimes thought of as the surprisal value of a digit string. Sometimes a pattern such as HHHH... is considered to have low information because we can easily calculate the nth value (assuming we are using some algorithm to obtain the string). So the Chaitin-Kolmogorov complexity is low, or that is, the information is low. On the other hand a string that by some measure is effectively random is considered here to be highly informative because the observer has almost no chance of knowing the string in detail in advance.

However, we can also take the opposite tack. Using runs testing, most digit strings (multi-value strings can often be transformed, for test purposes, to bi-value strings) are found under the bulge in the runs test bell curve and represent probable randomness. So it is unsurprising to encounter such a string. It is far more surprising to come across a string with far "too few" or far "too many" runs. These highly ordered strings would then be considered to have high information value.

This distinction may help address Wolfram's attempt to cope with "highly complex" automata. By these, he means those with irregular, randomlike stuctures running through periodic "backgrounds." If a sufficiently long runs test were done on such automata, we would obtain, I suggest, z scores in the high but not outlandish range. The z score would give a gauge of complexity.

We might distinguish complicatedness from complexity by saying that a random-like permutation of our grammatical symbols is merely complicated, but a grammatical permutation, possibly adjusted for noise, is complex. (We see, by the way, that grammatical strings require conditional probabilities.) 

A jungle out there
Paulos's defense of the theory of evolution is precise as far as it goes but does not acknowledge the various controversies on speciation among biologists, paleontologists and others.

Let us look at one of his counterarguments:

The creationist argument goes roughly as follows: "A very long sequence of individually improbable mutations must occur in order for a species or a biological process to evolve. If we assume these are independent events, then the probability that all of them will occur in the right order is the product of their respective probabilities" and hence a speciation probability is miniscule. "This line of argument," says Paulos, "is deeply flawed."

He writes: "Note that there are always a fantastically huge number of evolutionary paths that might be taken by an organism (or a process), but there is only one that actually will be taken. So, if, after the fact, we observe the particular evolutionary path actually taken and then calculate the a priori probability of its having been taken, we will get the miniscule probability that creationists mistakenly attach to the process as a whole."

Though we have dealt with this argument in terms of probability of the original biological cell, we must also consider its application to evolution via mutation. We can consider mutations to follow conditional probabilities. And though a particular mutation may be rather probable by being conditioned by the state of the organism (previous mutation and current environment), we must consider the entire chain of mutations represented by an extant species.

If we consider each species as representing a chain of mutations from the primeval organism, then we have for each a chain of conditional probability. A few probabilities may be high, but most are extremely low. Conditional probabilities can be graphed as trees of branching probabilities, so that a chain of mutation would be represented by one of these paths. We simply multiply each branch probability to get the total probability per path.

As a simple example, a 100-step conditional probability path with 10 probabilities of 0.9 and 60 with 0.7 and 30 with 0.5 yields an overall probability of 1.65 x 10-19. In other words, the more mutations and ancestral species attributed to an extanct species, the less likely that species is to exist via passive natural selection. The actual numbers are so remote as to make natural selection by passive filtering virtually impossible, though perhaps we might conjecture some nonlinear effect going on among species that tends to overcome this problem.

Think of it this way: During an organism's lifetime, there is a fantastically large number of possible mutations. What is the probability that the organism will happen upon one that is beneficial? That event would, if we are talking only about passive natural selection, be found under a probability distribution tail (whether normal, Poisson or other). The probability of even a few useful mutations occurring over 3.5 billion years isn't all that great (though I don't know a good estimate).

A botific vision
Let us, for example, consider Wolfram's cellular automata, which he puts into four qualitative classes of complexity. One of Wolfram's findings is that adding complexity to an already complex system does little or nothing to increase the complexity, though randomized initial conditions might speed the trend toward a random-like output (a fact which, we acknowledge, could be relevant to evolution theory).

Now suppose we take some cellular automata and, at every nth or so step, halt the program and revise the initial conditions slightly or greatly, based on a cell block between cell n and cell n+m. What is the likelihood of increasing complexity to the extent that a Turing machine is devised? Or suppose an automaton is already a Turing machine. What is the probability that it remains one or that a more complex-output Turing machine results from the mutation?

I haven't calculated the probabilities, but I would suppose they are all out under a tail.

In countering the idea that "self-organization" is unlikely, Paulos has elsewhere underscored the importance of Ramsey theory, which has an important role in network theory, . Actually, with sufficient n, "highly organized" networks are very likely [6]. Whether this implies sufficient resources for the self-organization of a machine is another matter. True, high n seem to guarantee such a possibility. But, the n may be too high to be reasonable. 

Darwin on the Lam?
However, it seems passive natural selection has an active accomplice in the extraordinarily subtle genetic machinery. It seems that some form of neo-Lamarckianism is necessary, or at any rate a negative feedback system which tends to damp out minor harmful mutations without ending the lineage altogether (catastrophic mutations usually go nowhere, the offspring most often not getting a chance to mate). 

Matchmaking
It must be acknowledged that in microbiological matters, probabilities need not always follow a routine independence multiplication rule. In cases where random matching is important, we have the number 0.63 turning up quite often.

For example, if one has n addressed envelopes and n identically addressed letters are randomly shuffled and then put in the envelopes, what is the probability that at least one letter arrives at the correct destination? The surprising answer is that it is the sum 1 - 1/2! + 1/3! ... up to n. For n greater than 10 the probability converges near 63%.

That is, we don't calculate, say 11-11 (3.5x10-15), but we have that our series approximates very closely 1 - e-1 = 0.63.

Similarly, suppose one has eight distinct pairs of socks randomly strewn in a drawer and thoughtlessly pulls out six one by one. What is the probability of at least one matching pair?

The first sock has no match. The probability the second will fail to match the first is 14/15. The probability for the third failing to match is 12/14 and so on until the sixth sock. Multiplying all these probabilities to get the probability of no match at all yields 32/143. Hence the probability of at least one match is 1 - 32/143 or about 78%.

It may be that the in's and out's of evolution arguments were beyond the scope of Irreligion, but I don't think Paulos has entirely refuted the skeptics [7].

Nevertheless, the book is a succinct reference work and deserves a place on one's bookshelf.

1. Paulos finds himself disconcerted by the "overbearing religiosity of so many humorless people." Whenever one upholds an unpopular idea, one can expect all sorts of objections from all sorts of people, not all of them well mannered or well informed. Comes with the territory. Unfortunately, I think this backlash may have blinded him to the many kind, cheerful and non-judgmental Christians and other religious types in his vicinity. Some people, unable to persuade Paulos of God's existence, end the conversation with "I'll pray for you..." I can well imagine that he senses that the pride of the other person is motivating a put-down. Some of these souls might try not letting the left hand know what the right hand is doing.

2. Paulos recounts this amusing fable: The great mathematician Euler was called to court to debate the necessity of God's existence with a well-known atheist. Euler opens with: "Sir, (a + bn)/n = x. Hence, God exists. Reply." Flabbergasted, his mathematically illiterate opponent walked away, speechless. Yet, is this joke as silly as it at first seems? After all, one might say that the mental activity of mathematics is so profound (even if the specific equation is trivial) that the existence of a Great Mind is implied.

3. We should caution that the runs test, which works for n1 and n2, each at least equal to 8 fails for the pattern HH TT HH TT... This failure seems to be an artifact of the runs test assumption that a usual number of runs is about n/2. I suggest that we simply say that the probability of that pattern is less than or equal to H T H T H T..., a pattern whose z score rises rapidly with n. Other patterns such as HHH TTT HHH... also climb away from the randomness area slowly with n. With these cautions, however, the runs test gives striking results.

4. Thanks to John Paulos for pointing out an embarrassing misstatement in a previous draft. I somehow mangled the probabilities during the editing. By the way, my tendency to write flubs when I actually know better is a real problem for me and a reason I need attentive readers to help me out.

5. I also muddled this section. Josh Mitteldorf's sharp eyes forced a rewrite.

6. Paulos in a column writes: 'A more profound version of this line of thought can be traced back to British mathematician Frank Ramsey, who proved a strange theorem. It stated that if you have a sufficiently large set of geometric points and every pair of them is connected by either a red line or a green line (but not by both), then no matter how you color the lines, there will always be a large subset of the original set with a special property. Either every pair of the subset's members will be connected by a red line or every pair of the subset's members will be connected by a green line.

If, for example, you want to be certain of having at least three points all connected by red lines or at least three points all connected by green lines, you will need at least six points. (The answer is not as obvious as it may seem, but the proof isn't difficult.) For you to be certain that you will have four points, every pair of which is connected by a red line, or four points, every pair of which is connected by a green line, you will need 18 points, and for you to be certain that there will be five points with this property, you will need -- it's not known exactly - between 43 and 55. With enough points, you will inevitably find unicolored islands of order as big as you want, no matter how you color the lines.

7. Paulos, interestingly, tells of how he lost a great deal of money by an ill-advised enthusiasm for WorldCom stock in A Mathematician Plays the Stock Market (Basic Books, 2003). The expert probabalist and statistician found himself under a delusion which his own background should have fortified him against. (The book, by the way, is full of penetrating insights about probability and the market.) One wonders whether Paulos might also be suffering from another delusion: that probabilities favor atheism.

The knowledge delusion: a rebuttal of Dawkins
Hilbert's 6th problem and Boolean circuits
Wikipedia article on Chaitin-Kolmogorov complexity
In search of a blind watchmaker
Wikipedia article on runs test
Eric Schechter on Wolfram vs intelligent design
The scientific embrace of atheism (by David Berlinski)
John Allen Paulos's home page
The many worlds of probability, reality and cognition

Saturday, July 8, 2017

Note on Wolfram's 'principle of computational equivalence'

Stephen Wolfram discusses his "principle of computational equivalence" extensively in his book A New Kind of Science and elsewhere. Herewith is this writer's understanding of the reasoning behind the PCE:

1. At least one of Wolfram's cellular automata is known to be Turing complete. That is, given the proper input string, such a system can emulate an arbitrary Turing machine. Hence, such a system emulates a universal Turing machine and is called "universal."

2. One very simple algorithm is Wolfram's CA Rule 110, which Matthew Cook has proved to be Turing complete. Wolfram also asserts that another simple cellular automaton algorithm has been shown to be universal or Turing complete.

3. There is, however, no general means of checking to see whether an arbitrary algorithm is Turing complete. This follows from Turing's proof that there is no general way to see whether a Turing machine will halt.

4. Hence, it can be argued that even if very simple algorithms are quite likely to be Turing complete, because there is no way to determine this in general, Wolfram's position isn't a testable conjecture. Only checking one particular input value after another would give any indication of the probability that a simple algorithm is universal.

5. Wolfram's principle of computational equivalence appears to reduce to the intuition that the probability is reasonable -- thinking in terms of geochrons -- that simple algorithms yield high information outputs.

Herewith the writer's comments concerning this principle:

1. Universality of a system does not imply that high information outputs are common (recalling that a bona fide Turing computation's tape halts at a finite number of steps). The normal distribution would seem to cover the situation here. One universal system is some algorithm (perhaps a Turing machine) which produces the function f(n) = n+1. We may regard this as universal in the sense that it prints out every Turing machine description number -- along with a sea of worthless integers -- which could then, notionally, be executed as a subroutine. Nevertheless, as n approaches infinity, the probability of happening on a description number goes to 0. It may be possible to get better efficiency, but even if one does so, many description numbers are for machines that get stuck or do low information outputs.

2. The notion that two systems in nature might both be universal, or "computationally equivalent," must be balanced against the point that no natural system can be in fact universal, being limited by energy resources and the entropy of the systems. So it is conceptually possible to have two identical systems, one of which has computation power A, based on energy resource x, and the other of which has computation power B, based on energy resource y. Just think of two clone mainframes, one of which must make do with half the electrical power of the other. The point here is that "computational equivalence" may turn out not to be terribly meaningful in nature. The probability of a high information output may be mildly improved if high computation power is fairly common in nature, but it is not easy to see that such outputs would be rather common.

A mathematician friend commented:
I'd only add that we have very reasonable ideas about "most numbers," but these intuitions depend crucially on ordering of an infinite set.  For example, if I say, "Most integers are not divisible by 100", you would probably agree that is a reasonable statement.  But in fact it's meaningless.  For every number you show me that's not divisible by 100, I'll show you 10 numbers that are divisible by 100.  I can write an algorithm for a random number generator that yields a lot more numbers that are divisible by 100 than otherwise.  "But," you protest, "not every integer output is equally likely under your random number generator."  And I'd have to agree, but I'd add that the same is true for any random number generator.  They are all infinitely biased in favor of "small" numbers (where "small" may have a different meaning for each random number generator).
Given an ordering of the integers, it is possible to make sense of statements about the probability of a random integer being thus-and-so.  And given an ordering of the cellular automata, it's possible to make sense of the statement that "a large fraction of cellular automata are Turing complete."
My reply:

There are 256 cellular automata in NKS. The most obvious way to order each of these is by input bit string, which expresses an integer. That is, the rule operates on a bit-string stacked in a pyramid of m rows. It is my thought that one would likely have to churn an awfully long time before hitting on a "universal." Matthew Cook's proof of the universalism of CA110 is a proof of principle, and gives no specific case.

As far as I know, there exist few strong clues that could be used to improve the probability that a specific CA is universal. Wolfram argues that those automata that show a pseudorandom string against a background "ether" can be expected to show universality (if one only knew the correct input string). However, let us remember that it is routine for functions to approach chaos via initial values yielding periodic outputs.

So one might need to prove that a set of CA members can only yield periodic outputs before proceeding to assess probabilities of universalism.

Perhaps there is a relatively efficient means of forming CA input values that imply high probability of universalism, but I am unaware of it.

Another thought: Suppose we have the set of successive integers in the interval [1,10]. Then the probability that a randomly chosen set member is even is 1/2. However, if we want to talk about an infinite set of integers, in line with my friend's point, the probability of a randomly selected number being even is meaningless (or, actually, 0, unless we invoke the axiom of choice). Suppose we order the set of natural numbers thus: {1,3,5,7,9,2,11,13,15,17,4...}. So we see that the probability of a specific property depends not only on the ordering, but on an agreement that an observation can only take place for a finite subset.

As my friend points out, perhaps the probability of hitting on a description number doesn't go to 0 with infinity; it depends on the ordering. But, we have not encountered a clever ordering and Wolfram has not presented one.

Thursday, July 6, 2017

In search of a blind watchmaker

A discussion of
The Blind Watchmaker: Why the Evidence of Evolution Reveals a Universe without Design
by the evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins.


First posted October 2010. Reposted to Cosmosis in July 2017,
with several paragraphs deleted and other, minor, changes.
Please call attention to errors or other matters via "krypto78...at...gmail...dot...com"
It is evident that I believe that experts are not automatically immune to the criticisms of laymen.



By PAUL CONANT

Surely it is quite unfair to review a popular science book published years ago. Writers are wont to have their views evolve over time [1]. Yet in the case of Richard Dawkins's The Blind Watchmaker: Why the Evidence of Evolution Reveals a Universe without Design (W.W. Norton 1986), a discussion of the mathematical concepts seems warranted, because books by this eminent biologist have been so influential and the "blind watchmaker" paradigm is accepted by a great many people, including a number of scientists.

Dawkins's continuing importance can be gauged by the fact that his most recent book, The God Delusion (Houghton Mifflin 2006), was a best seller. In fact, Watchmaker, also a best seller, was re-issued in 2006.

I do not wish to disparage anyone's religious or irreligious beliefs, but I do think it important to point out that non-mathematical readers should beware the idea that Dawkins has made a strong case that the "evidence of evolution reveals a universe without design."

There is little doubt that some of Dawkins's conjectures and ideas in Watchmaker are quite reasonable. However, many readers are likely to think that he has made a mathematical case that justifies the theory(ies) of evolution, in particular the "modern synthesis" that combines the concepts of passive natural selection and genetic mutation.

Dawkins wrote his apologia back in the eighties when computers were becoming more powerful and accessible, and when PCs were beginning to capture the public fancy. So it is understandable that, in this period of burgeoning interest in computer-driven chaos, fractals and cellular automata, he might have been quite enthusiastic about his algorithmic discoveries.

However, interesting computer programs may not be quite as enlightening as at first they seem.

Cumulative selection
Let us take Dawkins's argument about "cumulative selection," in which he uses computer programs as analogs of evolution. In the case of the phrase, "METHINKS IT IS LIKE A WEASEL," the probability -- using 26 capital letters and a space -- of coming up with such a sequence randomly is 27-28 (the astonishingly remote 8.3 x 10-41). However, that is also the probability for any random string of that length, he notes, and we might add that for most probability distributions. when n is large, any distinct probability approaches 0.

Such a string would be fantastically unlikely to occur in "single step evolution," he writes. Instead, Dawkins employs cumulative selection, which begins with a random 28-character string and then "breeds from" this phrase. "It duplicates it repeatedly, but with a certain chance of random error -- 'mutation' -- in the copying. The computer examines the mutant nonsense phrases, the 'progeny' of the original phrase, and chooses the one which, however slightly, most resembles the target phrase, METHINKS IT IS LIKE A WEASEL.

Three experiments evolved the precise sentence in 43, 64 and 41 steps, he wrote.

Dawkins's basic point is that an extraordinarily unlikely string is not so unlikely via "cumulative selection."

Once he has the readers' attention, he concedes that his views of how natural selection works preclude use of a long-range target. Such a target would fulfill the dread "final cause" of Aristotle, which implies purpose. But then Dawkins has his nifty "biomorph" computer visualizations (to be discussed below).

Yet it should be obvious that Dawkins's "methinks" argument applies specifically to evolution once the mechanisms of evolution are at hand. So the fact that he has been able to design a program which behaves like a neural network really doesn't say much about anything. He has achieved a proof of principle that was not all that interesting, although I suppose it would answer a strict creationist, which was perhaps his basic aim.

But which types of string are closer to the mean? Which ones occur most often? If we were to subdivide chemical constructs into various sets, the most complex ones -- which as far as we know are lifeforms -- would be farthest from the mean. (Dawkins, in his desire to appeal to the lay reader, avoids statistics theory other than by supplying an occasional quote from R.A. Fisher.)[2]

Dawkins then goes on to talk about his "biomorph" program, in which his algorithm recursively alters the pixel set, aided by his occasional selecting out of unwanted forms. He found that some algorithms eventually evolved insect-like forms, and thought this a better analogy to evolution, there having been no long-term goal. However, the fact that "visually interesting" forms show up with certain algorithms again says little. In fact, the remoteness of the probability of insect-like forms evolving was disclosed when he spent much labor trying to repeat the experiment because he had lost the exact initial conditions and parameters for his algorithm. (And, as a matter of fact, he had become an intelligent designer with a goal of finding a particular set of results.)

Again, what Dawkins has really done is use a computer to give his claims some razzle dazzle. But on inspection, the math is not terribly significant.

It is evident, however, that he hoped to counter Fred Hoyle's point that the probability of life organizing itself spontaneously was equivalent to a tornado blowing through a junkyard and assembling from the scraps a fully functioning 747 jetliner, Hoyle having made this point not only with respect to the origin of life, but also with respect to evolution by natural selection.

So before discussing the origin issue, let us turn to the modern synthesis.

The modern synthesis
I have not read the work of R.A. Fisher and others who established the modern synthesis merging natural selection with genetic mutation, and so my comments should be read in this light. [Since this was written I have examined the work of Fisher and of a number of statisticians and biologists, and I have read carefully a modern genetics text.]

Dawkins argues that, although most mutations are either neutral or harmful, there are enough progeny per generation to ensure that an adaptive mutation proliferates. And it is certainly true that, if we look at artificial selection -- as with dog breeding -- a desirable trait can proliferate in very short time periods, and there is no particular reason to doubt that if a population of dogs remained isolated on some island for tens of thousands of years that it would diverge into a new species, distinct from the many wolf sub-species.

But Dawkins is of the opinion that neutral mutations that persist because they do no harm are likely to be responsible for increased complexity. After all, relatively simple lifeforms are enormously successful at persisting.

And, as Stephen Wolfram points out (A New Kind of Science, Wolfram Media 2006), any realistic population size at a particular generation is extremely unlikely to produce a useful mutation because the ratio of possible mutations to the number of useful ones is some very low number. So Wolfram also believes neutral mutations drive complexity.

We have here two issues:
1. If complexity is indeed a result of neutral mutations alone, increases in complexity aren't driven by selection and don't tend to proliferate.
2. Why is any species at all extant? It is generally assumed that natural selection winnows out the lucky few, but does this idea suffice for passive filtering?

Though Dawkins is correct when he says that a particular mutation may be rather probable by being conditioned by the state of the organism (previous mutation), we must consider the entire chain of mutations represented by a species.

If we consider each species as representing a chain of mutations from the primeval organism, then we have a chain of conditional probability. A few probabilities may be high, but most are extremely low. Conditional probabilities can be graphed as trees of branching probabilities, so that a chain of mutation would be represented by one of these paths. We simply multiply each branch probability to get the total probability per path.

As a simple example, a 100-step conditional probability path with 10 probabilities of 0.9 and 60 with 0.7 and 30 with 0.5 yields an overall probability of 1.65 x 10-19.

In other words, the more mutations and ancestral species attributed to an extant species, the less likely it is to exist via passive natural selection. The actual numbers are so remote as to make natural selection by passive filtering virtually impossible, though perhaps we might conjecture some nonlinear effect going on among species that tends to overcome this problem.

Dawkins's algorithm demonstrating cumulative evolution fails to account for this difficulty. Though he realizes a better computer program would have modeled lifeform competition and adaptation to environmental factors, Dawkins says such a feat was beyond his capacities. However, had he programed in low probabilities for "positive mutations," cumulative evolution would have been very hard to demonstrate.

Our second problem is what led Hoyle to revive the panspermia conjecture, in which life and proto-lifeforms are thought to travel through space and spark earth's biosphere. His thinking was that spaceborne lifeforms rain down through the atmosphere and give new jolts to the degrading information structures of earth life. (The panspermia notion has received much serious attention in recent years, though Hoyle's conjectures remain outside the mainstream.)

From what I can gather, one of Dawkins's aims was to counter Hoyle's sharp criticisms. But Dawkins's vigorous defense of passive natural selection does not seem to square with the probabilities, a point made decades previously by J.B.S. Haldane.

Without entering into the intelligent design argument, we can suggest that the implausible probabilities might be addressed by a neo-Lamarkian mechanism of negative feedback adaptations. Perhaps a stress signal on a particular organ is received by a parent and the signal transmitted to the next generation. But the offspring's genes are only acted upon if the other parent transmits the signal. In other words, the offspring embryo would not strengthen an organ unless a particular stress signal reached a threshold.

If that be so, passive natural selection would still play a role, particularly with respect to body parts that lose their role as essential for survival.

Dawkins said Lamarkianism had been roundly disproved, but since the time he wrote the book, molecular biology has shown the possibility of reversal of genetic information (retroviruses and reverse transcription). However, my real point here is not about Lamarkianism but about Dawkins's misleading mathematics and reasoning.

Joshua Mitteldorf, an evolutionary biologist with a physics background and a Dawkins critic, points out that an idea proposed more than 30 years ago by David Layzer is just recently beginning to gain ground as a response to probability issues. Roughly I would style Layzer's proposal a form of neo-Lamarckianism [3].

Dawkins concedes that the primeval cell presents a difficult problem, the problem of the arch. If one is building an arch, one cannot build it incrementally stone by stone because at some point, a keystone must be inserted and this requires that the proto-arch be supported until the keystone is inserted. The complete arch cannot evolve incrementally. This of course is the essential point made by the few scientists who support intelligent design.

Dawkins essentially has no answer. He says that a previous lifeform, possibly silicon-based, could have acted as "scaffolding" for current lifeforms, the scaffolding having since vanished. Clearly, this simply pushes the problem back. Is he saying that the problem of the arch wouldn't apply to the previous incarnation of "life" (or something lifelike)?

Some might argue that there is a possible answer in the concept of phase shift, in which, at a threshold energy, a disorderly system suddenly becomes more orderly. However, this idea is left unaddressed in Watchmaker. I would suggest that we would need a sequence of phase shifts that would have a very low overall probability, though I hasten to add that I have insufficient data for a well-informed assessment.

Cosmic probabilities
Is the probability of life in the cosmos very high, as some think? Dawkins argues that it can't be all that high, at least for intelligent life, otherwise we would have picked up signals. I'm not sure this is valid reasoning, but I do accept his notion that if there are a billion life-prone planets in the cosmos and the probability of life emerging is a billion to one, then it is virtually certain to have originated somewhere in the cosmos.

Though Dawkins seems to have not accounted for the fact that much of the cosmos is forever beyond the range of any possible detection as well as the fact that time gets to be a tricky issue on cosmic scales, let us, for the sake of argument, grant that the population of planets extends to any time and anywhere, meaning it is possible life came and went elsewhere or hasn't arisen yet, but will, elsewhere.

Such a situation might answer the point made by Peter Ward and Donald Brownlee in Rare Earth: Why Complex Life Is Uncommon in the Universe (Springer 2000) that the geophysics undergirding the biosphere represents a highly complex system (and the authors make efforts to quantify the level of complexity), meaning that the probability of another such system is extremely remote. (Though the book was written before numerous discoveries concerning extrasolar planets, thus far their essential point has not been disproved. And the possibility of non-carbon-based life is not terribly likely in that carbon valences permit high levels of complexity in their compounds.)

Now some may respond that it seems terrifically implausible that our planet just happens to be the one where the, say, one-in-a-billion event occurred. However, the fact that we are here to ask the question is perhaps sufficient answer to that worry. If it had to happen somewhere, here is as good a place as any. A more serious concern is the probability that intelligent life arises in the cosmos.

The formation of multicellular organisms is perhaps the essential "phase shift" required, in that central processors are needed to organize their activities. But what is the probability of this level of complexity? Obviously, in our case, the probability is one, but, otherwise, the numbers are unavailable, mostly because of the lack of a mathematically precise definition of "level of complexity" as applied to lifeforms.

Nevertheless, probabilities tend to point in the direction of cosmically absurd: there aren't anywhere near enough atoms -- let alone planets -- to make such probabilities workable. Supposing complexity to result from neutral mutations, probability of multicellular life would be far, far lower than for unicellular forms whose speciation is driven by natural selection. Also, what is the survival advantage of self-awareness, which most would consider an essential component of human-like intelligence?

Hoyle's most recent idea was that probabilities were increased by proto-life in comets that eventually reached earth. But, despite enormous efforts to resolve the arch problem (or the "jumbo jet problem"), in my estimate he did not do so.

Interestingly, Dawkins argues that people are attracted to the idea of intelligent design because modern engineers continually improve machinery designs, giving a seemingly striking analogy to evolution. Something that he doesn't seem to really appreciate is that every lifeform may be characterized as a negative-feedback controlled machine, which converts energy into work and obeys the second law of thermodynamics. That's quite an arch!

The problem of sentience
Watchmaker does not examine the issue of emergence of human intelligence, other than as a matter of level of complexity.

Hoyle noted in The Intelligent Universe (Holt, Rhinehart and Winston 1984) that over a century ago, Alfred Russel Wallace was perplexed by the observation that "the outstanding talents of man... simply cannot be explained in terms of natural selection."

Hoyle quotes the Japanese biologist S. Ohno:
Did the genome (genetic material) of our cave-dwelling predecessors contain a set or sets of genes which enable modern man to compose music of infinite complexity and write novels with profound meaning? One is compelled to give an affirmative answer...It looks as though the early Homo was already provided with the intellectual potential which was in great excess of what was needed to cope with the environment of his time.

Hoyle proposes in Intelligent that viruses are responsible for evolution, accounting for mounting complexity over time. However, this seems hard to square with the point just made that such complexity doesn't seem to occur as a result of passive natural winnowing and so there would be no selective "force" favoring its proliferation.

At any rate, I suppose that we may assume that Dawkins in Watchmaker saw the complexity inherent in human intelligence as most likely to be a consequence of neutral mutations.

An issue not addressed by Dawkins (or Hoyle for that matter) is the question of self-awareness. Usually the mechanists see self-awareness as an epiphenomenon of a highly complex program (a notion Roger Penrose struggled to come to terms with in The Emperor's New Mind (Oxford 1986) and Shadows of the Mind (Oxford 1994).)

But let us think of robots. Isn't it possible in principle to design robots that multiply replications and maintain homeostasis until they replicate? Isn't it possible in principle to build in programs meant to increase probability of successful replication as environmental factors shift?

In fact, isn't it possible in principle to design a robot that emulates human behaviors quite well? (Certain babysitter robots are even now posing ethics concerns as to an infant's bonding with them.)

I don't suggest that some biologists haven't proposed interesting ideas for answering such questions. My point is that Watchmaker omits much, making the computer razzle dazzle that much more irrelevant.

Conclusion
In his autobiographical What Mad Pursuit (Basic Books 1988) written when he was about 70, Nobelist Francis Crick expresses enthusiasm for Dawkins's argument against intelligent design, citing with admiration the "methinks" program. Crick, who trained as a physicist and was also a panspermia advocate, doesn't seem to have noticed the difference in issues here. If we are talking about an analog of the origin of life (one-step arrival at the "methinks" sentence), then we must go with a distinct probability of 8.3 x 10-41. If we are talking about an analog of some evolutionary algorithm, then we can be convinced that complex results can occur with application of simple iterative rules (though, again, the probabilities don't favor passive natural selection).

One can only suppose that Crick, so anxious to uphold his lifelong vision of atheism, leaped on Dawkins's argument without sufficient criticality. On the other hand, one must accept that there is a possibility his analytic powers had waned.

At any rate, it seems fair to say that the theory of evolution is far from being a clear-cut theory, in the manner of Einstein's theory of relativity. There are a number of difficulties and a great deal of disagreement as to how the evolutionary process works. This doesn't mean there is no such process, but it does mean one should listen to mechanists like Dawkins with care.


1. In a 1996 introduction to Watchmaker, Dawkins wrote that "I can find no major thesis in these chapters that I would withdraw, nothing to justify the catharsis of a good recant."

2. In previous drafts, I permitted myself to get bogged down in irrelevant, and obscure, probability discussions. Plainly, I like a challenge; yet it's all too true that a writer who is his own sole editor has a fool for a client.

3. Genetic Variation and Progressive Evolution by David Layzer, The American Naturalist Vol. 115, No. 6 (Jun., 1980), pp. 809-826 (article consists of 18 pages) Published by: The University of Chicago Press for The American Society of Naturalists

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