mills

My name is Mills Baker; I write about love, culture, art, religion, mental illness, philosophy, memory, politics and the rather random.

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Posts tagged science.
“Perhaps the biggest question of all is whether the process of inquiry that has revealed so much about the universe since the time of Galileo and Kepler is nearing the end of the line. “I worry whether we’ve come to the limits of empirical science,” says Lawrence Krauss of Arizona State University. Specifically, Krauss wonders if it will require knowledge of other universes, such as those posed by Carroll, to understand why our universe is the way it is. If such knowledge is impossible to access, it may spell the end for deepening our understanding any further.”

Petichou linked to an article on some of the preoccupations of contemporary physicists, and I was struck by the paragraph above; Krauss’ is a curious concern.

It is often noted that one of the defining qualities of our universe is its comprehensibility, but it might just as well be said that comprehension is a defining quality of mind. This symmetry between the knowable universe and the knowing mind reflects an important quality of the latter: it does not merely observe, record, and inductively detect intelligible connections.

Rather: it encompasses, interiorizes, virtualizes, and explains holistically. That is to say that the mind is an organ which can contain within itself accurate models of all phenomena in the form of explanations. These models are akin to virtualizations: we can recreate within our minds even what we cannot observe, and we can do so such that those recreations are astonishingly isomorphic to their real counterparts.

This is the metaphorical basis for cognition: we construct metaphorical models (theories, ideas, terms) which retain the logical properties and relations of their subjects so that we are not dependent on accessibility for knowledge. We cannot, for example, see the Big Bang; the perplexing flow of time prevents it. Yet we can model it with incredibly acuity, and our virtualizing computational minds allow us to extract from those models conclusions which predict and explain the behavior of the physical universe.

Nothing about the multiverse would be different, regardless of its observational accessibility. I am surprised to read Krauss’ epistemological anxiety, since it would be an event unprecedented in the history of physical reality were we to encounter something fundamentally incomprehensible. I imagine David Deutsch, in particular, would object that such a development would be unlikely given the evolution of mind within physical reality, an evolution which has allowed the former to contain the latter with profound accuracy.

(In this sense, mind –including its externalized components, such as computer networks- may be the only element of reality which can in theory contain reality, although Walker Percy claimed that mind cannot, as a semiotic matter, contain itself: hence the success of the sciences and the failures of modern selfhood).

“Phosphenes,” from Andrew Coulter Enright.
The inimitable S. Stratodrive informed me that the phenomenon in which one one sees spiralling, luminescing mosaics and masses of ghostly color when one presses one’s hands into one’s eyes is “an entropic phenomenon called a ‘pressure phosphene’ and it’s a result of stimulating your retinal ganglion cells.” He also shared that it’s sometimes called “prisoner’s cinema” by those in the darkness of jail.
The stimulation of these cells need not be manual: phosphenes can also result from magnetic fields, radiation, drugs, standing too quickly, or other conditions. Amazingly, astronauts report seeing phosphenes, presumably due to the radiation they encounter in space.
This is evidently because the high-energy particle radiation in space, blocked for us by our atmosphere, activates the cells responsible for detecting light; while I initially assumed this meant that, in a sense, we see such radiation (in a beautiful kaleidoscopic way), another author suggests a different explanation:
These ionizing radiation-induced free radicals generate chemiluminescent photons from lipid peroxidation, which are absorbed by the photoreceptor chromophores, modify[ing] the rhodopsin molecules (bleaching) and start[ing] the photo-transduction cascade resulting in the perception of phosphene lights.
I’m sure Jack can comment further, but I would note that (1) I think phosphenes are beautiful and, in their demonstration of the lower-order processes of our perceptions, fascinating; (2) I learned the word “psychoplasticity” while reading about this; and (3) the image above is a composite of photographs of lightstick chemicals poured into a toilet; I was searching for representations of phosphenes, which I’d like to see, and it was the best I found.
Update: be sure to read the King of Joy’s excellent corrections and expansions on this subject, on his fine site or in the comment below. Thanks, Ben!

“Phosphenes,” from Andrew Coulter Enright.

The inimitable S. Stratodrive informed me that the phenomenon in which one one sees spiralling, luminescing mosaics and masses of ghostly color when one presses one’s hands into one’s eyes is “an entropic phenomenon called a ‘pressure phosphene’ and it’s a result of stimulating your retinal ganglion cells.” He also shared that it’s sometimes called “prisoner’s cinema” by those in the darkness of jail.

The stimulation of these cells need not be manual: phosphenes can also result from magnetic fields, radiation, drugs, standing too quickly, or other conditions. Amazingly, astronauts report seeing phosphenes, presumably due to the radiation they encounter in space.

This is evidently because the high-energy particle radiation in space, blocked for us by our atmosphere, activates the cells responsible for detecting light; while I initially assumed this meant that, in a sense, we see such radiation (in a beautiful kaleidoscopic way), another author suggests a different explanation:

These ionizing radiation-induced free radicals generate chemiluminescent photons from lipid peroxidation, which are absorbed by the photoreceptor chromophores, modify[ing] the rhodopsin molecules (bleaching) and start[ing] the photo-transduction cascade resulting in the perception of phosphene lights.

I’m sure Jack can comment further, but I would note that (1) I think phosphenes are beautiful and, in their demonstration of the lower-order processes of our perceptions, fascinating; (2) I learned the word “psychoplasticity” while reading about this; and (3) the image above is a composite of photographs of lightstick chemicals poured into a toilet; I was searching for representations of phosphenes, which I’d like to see, and it was the best I found.

Update: be sure to read the King of Joy’s excellent corrections and expansions on this subject, on his fine site or in the comment below. Thanks, Ben!

“Oppenheimer, they tell me you are writing poetry. I do not see how a man can work on the frontiers of physics and write poetry at the same time. They are in opposition. In science you want to say something that nobody knew before, in words which everyone can understand. In poetry you are bound to say something that everybody knows already in words that nobody can understand.”
The brilliant physicist Paul Dirac, who seems not to have understood poetry, in a remark to Robert Oppenheimer. Thanks, dad!
One of the photos we took with the telescope. The large feature towards the bottom right is Mare Crisum, the Sea of Storms.
A few years ago, I lost a crucial argument because of this fact:
“The Moon is in synchronous rotation, which means it rotates about its axis in about the same time it takes to orbit the Earth. This results in it keeping nearly the same face turned towards the Earth at all times.”
This amazes me. Also, I resent this furtive concealment, even if it’s just lunar modesty, and am trying to determine which side is better so that I can properly attenuate my irritation:

The two hemispheres have distinctly different appearances, with the near side covered in multiple, large maria (Latin for ‘seas’…). The far side has a battered, densely cratered appearance with few maria.

Like everyone, I find whatever is kept away more intriguing and am now cross with the moon for its secrecy.
(Note: this is not related to Cameron’s post about The Great Moon Hoax, or, for that matter, this classic UNLV track).

One of the photos we took with the telescope. The large feature towards the bottom right is Mare Crisum, the Sea of Storms.

A few years ago, I lost a crucial argument because of this fact:

“The Moon is in synchronous rotation, which means it rotates about its axis in about the same time it takes to orbit the Earth. This results in it keeping nearly the same face turned towards the Earth at all times.”

This amazes me. Also, I resent this furtive concealment, even if it’s just lunar modesty, and am trying to determine which side is better so that I can properly attenuate my irritation:

The two hemispheres have distinctly different appearances, with the near side covered in multiple, large maria (Latin for ‘seas’…). The far side has a battered, densely cratered appearance with few maria.

Like everyone, I find whatever is kept away more intriguing and am now cross with the moon for its secrecy.

(Note: this is not related to Cameron’s post about The Great Moon Hoax, or, for that matter, this classic UNLV track).

“It would take as many human bodies to make up the sun as there are atoms in each of us. The geometric mean of the mass of a proton and the mass of the sun is 50 kilograms, within a factor of two of the mass of each person here.”

Sir Martin Rees in a TED lecture. He suggests that humans have evolved to this scale, an almost beautiful mean between stars and atomic particles, because we must be large enough to permit massive complexity in structure while small enough to experience minimal gravitational effects.

This idea reminds me of Schrödinger’s amazing explanation of why the fundamental components of human life -particularly DNA- are sized as they are.

It always makes me feel rather happy to think that everything had to be just so for our world, as we know it, to occur. Rees calls this quality of the universe its biophilia and describes it more here.

“Were we to describe the so-called “Copernican Revolution” in brief, we might put it this way: predictive power grew ever more irresistible.”

William T. Vollmann, Uncentering the Earth. Vollmann notes that what made the groping progression away from geocentrism (and other errors in astronomy) inevitable was less that they were not explanatory -they were, and worked with our metaphysics at the time!- but that they were not predictive.

Walker Percy felt this was a major element of the paradigmatic shift to what he called “scientism” in the West: as technology has become the most important concern of our civilization, the predictive capacity of any system of knowledge has become how we judge that system’s value. Technology needs theories that can predict how it can relate to and dominate the natural world: so what tells us what will happen is more important than anything else told.

Science has supremely powerful predictive capacities; it has very powerful explanatory capacities, although those explanations must necessarily be developed in inhuman language; it has virtually no capacity for generating human meaning. That is: it is observational, predictive, explanatory only in the ways dictated by the natural world’s contours.

Culture (religion, art, politics) has less powerful predictive capabilities (most believers will admit that its predictions are either eschatological or vague: this will happen to you at the end of time; this will happen after death; but nothing about what will happen to you if you inhale this or that bacteria or travel at a speed approaching that of light; and its predictions do not expand and refine themselves). Culture is better at providing morality and meaning, however, because it can exist apart from the natural world in the world of the mind and heart and in the language of human experience.

I note this only because I found Vollmann’s condensation fascinating: here is the point in which our obsession with understanding and predicting phenomena -with mastering the natural world and the future- begins to supersede our adherence to value systems of another sort.

“Predictive power grew ever more irresistible…” sounds almost Faustian. And perhaps it is.

“Suppose that you could mark the molecules in a glass of water; then pour the contents of the glass into the ocean and stir the latter thoroughly so as to distribute the marked molecules uniformly throughout the seven seas; if then you took a glass of water anywhere out of the ocean, you would find in it about a hundred of your marked molecules.”

Erwin Schrödinger, quoting an example used by Lord Kelvin, to demonstrate how small atoms are (that is: how many of them there are in everything, like glasses of water).

As he notes, however, it’s not so much that atoms are small as it is that we are large, very large. Schrödinger begins What Is Life?, which was sent to me by my dad, by pondering the relative size of organic life to its atomic constituents. Why are cells, organisms, humans so much larger than atoms and atomic events? Why are all fundamental physical processes so far beneath our sensory perception?

The question is not facile, although the immediate instinct is to say, as we do when we don’t understand something, “Because it is!” But Schrödinger arrives at an arresting conclusion: life is vastly larger in scale because at the atomic scale, individual atomic events are not reliably predictable. Due to the bizarre and irregular nature of individual molecular and atomic events, few repeatable phenomena are available for systems to organize their processes with; that is to say, you cannot build reliable, repeatable processes from atoms or molecules because they are too random. Life must use aggregates of millions of atoms or molecules.

In aggregates, atoms behave with statistical regularity despite individual irregularity. Schrödinger illustrates this with examples like diffusion and Brownian motion; in both cases, individual atoms behave with total and unpredictable irregularity, but in massive groups they behave with complete predictability. Just as one could not build a skyscraper on unpredictably shifting earth, so organic life must rely on the aggregation of atoms and molecules for the processes it uses to function (like diffusion, for example). Hence our sense organs all being far too massive to perceive all the fundamental phenomena of the universe’s compositional elements.

Abusing this remarkable observation, I thought it a nicely poetic metaphor for an epistemological phenomenon that has long irked me: the manner in which the more closely examined something is, the more fleeting its precise details are; there is a Heisenberg-like quality to reality, and I remember when as a child I was attempting to learn about JFK’s assassination how baffled I was that so many thousands of investigators, historians, academics, and law-enforcement personnel, working for decades, could not arrive at an indisputable conclusion. As I’ve grown older, I’ve seen that this is true of virtually every event, even those recorded on video or photographic media and witnessed by millions.

While this has nothing whatever to do with Schrödinger and Heisenberg, it struck me then that reality resists knowing: the more closely you examine it, the more space in between facts you see, the more chaotic the motion you seek to arrest, the more diffuse the facts you want to connect. Crystalline structures of conclusive meaning merely mask enormous spaces in their own lattices, spaces where the random trails of the unpredictable remain visible.

(Note: I’m not even discussing the inescapable fact that at the quantum level, and thus probably beyond it, mere observation demonstrably affects reality in ways that are scarcely believable).