Like most people, I sometimes wonder about the so-called Big Questions. Why are we here? Why do some people eat marmite? Those are reasonable questions to ask, but I think it's more interesting to think about how we're here, rather than why. The concept of 'why' doesn't really mean anything when applied to natural phenomena.
Of course, we do not completely understand the mechanisms that caused us to exist. For instance, we don't know what species lie on the evolutionary chain between human beings and the early hominids. However, we've found several possibilities consistent with what we know about evolution. Like in maths, knowing that a solution exists is often more interesting than knowing precisely what the solution is. The existence of a solution does not prove that our understanding of the universe is correct, but at least tells us that our understanding is consistent with reality.
In this limited sense, at least, I know the answers to the Big Questions. My understanding of the universe is consistent with what I know of reality; in other words, a solution exists. The specifics of the solution will change as I find out more about the universe, but the fundamentals are pretty stable. I haven't had to change them much, because they've been consistent with reality in every way.
Almost.
There's one thing I simply don't understand, and haven't been able to fit into what I understand about reality. It's kind of a vague problem, so I'm not sure that I can communicate it clearly, but here goes.
Let's think of the human nervous system as a computing machine, for a moment. It takes input, processes it, and gives output. These machines emerged through millions of years of natural selection. Our consciousness is encoded in the state of these computers. All our thoughts are bits in memory. This is all well and good, and I can imagine a universe where this would happen.
The problem is that I can observe this happening. Right now, I can observe part of the state of my brain. I can observe the recent input of my senses, and some previous experiences recorded in my memory. I can observe part of the state of the computer called 'Nath' at a particular point in time. Why can I observe this particular computer, at this particular time? Who am I, the observer? I can understand that the computer called 'Nath' might incorrectly believe that there is an observer; the observer might be a useful abstraction created by this computer. 'Nath' might behave identically whether or not there really is such an observer. But I, the observer, know that I exist; I cannot a figment of the computer's imagination, because I observe myself observing the computer. (Though I suppose the computer would be thinking these thoughts and typing these words whether or not this was the case.)
This is what I cannot account for within my current model of how the universe works; I do not know how there is an observer.
Of course, we do not completely understand the mechanisms that caused us to exist. For instance, we don't know what species lie on the evolutionary chain between human beings and the early hominids. However, we've found several possibilities consistent with what we know about evolution. Like in maths, knowing that a solution exists is often more interesting than knowing precisely what the solution is. The existence of a solution does not prove that our understanding of the universe is correct, but at least tells us that our understanding is consistent with reality.
In this limited sense, at least, I know the answers to the Big Questions. My understanding of the universe is consistent with what I know of reality; in other words, a solution exists. The specifics of the solution will change as I find out more about the universe, but the fundamentals are pretty stable. I haven't had to change them much, because they've been consistent with reality in every way.
Almost.
There's one thing I simply don't understand, and haven't been able to fit into what I understand about reality. It's kind of a vague problem, so I'm not sure that I can communicate it clearly, but here goes.
Let's think of the human nervous system as a computing machine, for a moment. It takes input, processes it, and gives output. These machines emerged through millions of years of natural selection. Our consciousness is encoded in the state of these computers. All our thoughts are bits in memory. This is all well and good, and I can imagine a universe where this would happen.
The problem is that I can observe this happening. Right now, I can observe part of the state of my brain. I can observe the recent input of my senses, and some previous experiences recorded in my memory. I can observe part of the state of the computer called 'Nath' at a particular point in time. Why can I observe this particular computer, at this particular time? Who am I, the observer? I can understand that the computer called 'Nath' might incorrectly believe that there is an observer; the observer might be a useful abstraction created by this computer. 'Nath' might behave identically whether or not there really is such an observer. But I, the observer, know that I exist; I cannot a figment of the computer's imagination, because I observe myself observing the computer. (Though I suppose the computer would be thinking these thoughts and typing these words whether or not this was the case.)
This is what I cannot account for within my current model of how the universe works; I do not know how there is an observer.
