Book Review: The Emperor's New Mind

Author: Roger Penrose
Review by Murray Chapman

A subject that's always fascinated me is the nature of consciousness: how is it that we are aware of ourselves? Are other animals aware of themselves in the same way? What about computers, or calculators? Most people make what I feel is a fairly reasonable assumption that human beings are aware of themselves in a way unlike any other animal or object. Certainly we're more sentient or self-aware than a calculator appears to be; we are also capable of things that monkeys aren't. But monkeys are capable of things that calculators aren't. So are cats. And mice, and grasshoppers. What about plankton? Even these tiniest of creatures exhibit complex, non-deterministic behavior that is markedly different to that of even the most powerful computer in existence. Our attempts at creating or even simulating intelligence are clumsy. Clearly, there is something missing from our understanding about the nature of consciousness, and in this book, Roger Penrose presents a possible explanation.

The book is extremely well written and organized; the subjects covered are so mind-bogglingly large and diverse that without a solid logical progression tying them together the book would be a disorganized and confusing mess. Penrose manages to guide the reader step by step, essentially from first principles, to his final conclusion regarding the nature of consciousness. It's a wild and crazy journey: you look at everything from the smallest subatomic particles to huge galaxies and supernovae, with detours into abstract mathematics, fractals, teleportation, time-travel, biology, billiards, geometry, relativity, the 11th dimension, and quantum mechanics. Before embarking on the journey, it might seem ludicrous that all of these things could be tied somehow into consciousness absent some kind of new-age astrology involving spirits and "magic" -- yet without breaking any laws of physics or nature, and indeed acknowledging when he's bending them even slightly -- Penrose makes a solid, fact-based scientific argument.

Penrose uses an extremely clever technique to present his claims: rather than stating what his conclusion is and then attempting to prove it to be true, he begins by examining exactly what it is that we're trying to find. Then, starting with the most elemental of concepts, he slowly adds layer upon layer in an attempt to move closer towards a solution. The results are profound: rather than feeling like you're being badgered into believing his specific theory, the reader is taken on an entirely plausible journey of discovery, eventually arriving at what feels like a rational and solid explanation.

But what is he saying?

Penrose begins by asking what is "consciousness"? This question reminds me of the "Deep Thought" sequence in The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, in which it became apparent that the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything was much, much simpler than the question itself -- which could be very very difficult to state precisely. "You know... everything!" But what, precisely? Rather than trying to convince you of a definition that suits his goals, the author guides the reader through the very nature of the universe, deriving meaning by adding new evidence to that which has been previously discovered and accepted.

Penrose begins by examining fundamental concepts that we will need to precisely define in order to know what we're trying to solve. Example: knowledge. Well, that's "facts plus consciousness". Ok, let's leave "consciousness" out of it for now; what is a "fact"? That's something that is true. But how do we know if something is true or not? Because it can be proved or measured to be so. Right: so after three chapters, we know that we need to solve the "proof" and "measurement" issues before we can possibly understand consciousness.

Now here is where things start to get interesting. Both "proof" and "measurement," despite what philosophers, parents, teachers, and theologians would tell you, turn out to be extremely complex and surprising things that don't play by the normal rules.

Proof

In 1931, Kurt Gödel proved that every precise, complete, and self-consistent mathematical system of rules and propositions must contain statements that can be neither proved nor disproved by the rules of the system. This was a revolution in mathematics; some scholars took this as undeniable proof that everything was pointless and arbitrary, or that the perfect universe revealed by mathematics was a sham, and that there was no underlying order or logic on which nature operated. If there were things that we could prove we couldn't ever know, I mean, what was the point?

It turns out that Gödel's theorem actually opened up more possibilities than it closed; if you have something you can't determine, then you introduce an infinite number of equally valid solutions. This is the same mental leap you have to make to comprehend algebra: "3 + x = 5" -- how can arithmetic make sense when you're not given all the information? To solve it, you need to be able to quarantine the "x" into a "don't worry about it for now" part of your brain, and use what you do know to try and reduce the number of possible solutions. Another similar cognitive leap is required to understand that equations such "x * x = 25" allow more than one correct solution, something that used to result in a detention if you tried it as an excuse for getting your homework wrong.

Gödel's theorem raised interesting questions about computability, which is important for questions about knowledge and proof: what can you determine, and what can you never determine? Can you prove that something can ever be learned? Alan Turing took Gödel's work one step further and proved that - in general - you cannot write a set of instructions that works out whether another set of instructions will ever stop. This halting problem is the pandora's box of computer science: you have to open it (ie following the instructions; run the program) to work out what it does.

Proof no longer seems like the black and white, right or wrong concept it was when we started. We continue on to the rest of the book with a large number of items in our "don't worry about it know" collection.

Measurement

Isaac Newton formulated much of the kinetic physics which are taught in schools today: motion, action, reaction, momentum, velocity, etc. Equal and opposite reactions; conservation of momentum, and all that. These beautiful, elegant, and simple laws explained and predicted the actions of nature, and allowed an explosion of scientific advancement.

As we became better and better at measuring the world around us, and could look at extremes of measurement (the very small and the very large) we started to notice small problems with Newton's equations. At first, these were thought to be experimental errors, but after decades of experimentation and careful confirmation, scientists began to suspect that Newton's laws weren't perfect.

For things on the scale that humans typically encounter, Newtonian (or "classical") physics works essentially perfectly: centimeters, hours, kilograms, etc. But when you start looking at astronomical or miniscule quantities (eg light years, or sub-molecular distances), observed reality begins to drift away from the Newtonian predictions.

This is where Albert Einstein comes in; his theories of general and special relativity introduced compensation factors for these extreme quantities; based on his theories we've entered a whole new era of scientific discovery (astronomy, nuclear physics, etc). (It's interesting to note that Einstein himself was dissastisfied with his corrections to Newton, and suspected that there was another truth lurking still deeper within nature, but he was never able to discover it. Modern physicists concur, and are to this day searching for the Grand Unified Theory (GUT) that would tie together Newton, Einstein, and other observed anomalies in gravity and electromagnetic fields.)

As we delved deeper and deeper into the extremes of nature, we find some truly startling things about reality. Things that we have always taken for granted no longer seem to apply. For instance: the faster you travel, the slower that time goes. You would need to get very close to the speed of light (300,000 km/s) for a human to notice it, but modern clocks are accurate enough to notice time slowing down on airplanes, which only move at around 1,000 km/h.

Similarly, some very bizarre things happen when you start to look at extremely small objects. Let's illustrate by way of an example: suppose you want to pick up a tennis ball that is rolling across the floor. In order to do so, you would need to know (a) where it is, and (b) how fast it is moving. This seems like a perfectly reasonable proposition, similarilar to things that we do without thinking multiple times per day. It appears, however, that when you get down to tiny, subatomic distances, it's just plain impossible to be able to answer both questions at the same time.

Huh? What does that mean? Surely you just look at this small object and say "there it is." Unfortunately, it's not that simple. We're talking about measurements so small -- smaller than the wavelength of light -- that they are by definition invisible. It's like trying to locate a pair of socks in your house by ZIP code. Theory, backed by experimentation, shows that the more accurately you measure the position of a subatomic particle, the less accurately it is possible to measure its velocity - and vice-versa. Physics nerds call this the Heisenberg Uncertaincy Principle, thus explaining the joke written on nearly every bathroom door in university physics departments: "Heisenberg may have been here."

This is not some abstract notion cooked up for the hell of it by a bunch of absent-minded egg-head professors looking for research funding. This explanation, and the branch of physics that has grown up around it, is the simplest, most rational, fact-based explanation of what has been experimentally observed. Various models of the underlying components of subatomic physics have been proposed; this is quantum mechanics, named after the further curious observation that events in the sub-sub-atomic realm happen not in any arbitrary sizes, but only at well-defined chunks, or quanta. It is clear that at some point, when you're looking at smaller and smaller objects, there is a sudden change in the rules that govern reality.

So what?

Well, consider this: we starting with the question "how is it that we are aware of ourselves?" and, by following a logical path of exploration, we've ended up examining the very smallest parts of nature, and bumped into quantum mechanics and Einstein's theories of relativity. And so it is with Penrose's book. We've only spent a few paragraphs talking about it here; Penrose fills 482 pages of this kind of background material before he even reaches the subject of consciousness.

Given this volume of groundwork, you may expect that the book gives an incredibly detailed and fully-explained account of each step along the path. Ironically, however, my only complaint with the book is that we're asked to accept so much as "given": Penrose gives copious references for his facts, but the speed at which we (necessarily) move through the subject matter leaves little time to become comfortable with accepting one proposition before it is used to crack open reality in a new and different way, leading to yet another fantastic brain-bending concept.

Penrose needs to cover essentially several hundred years work of the most brilliant minds in mathematics and physics in order to even start making his own arguments, so this is perhaps forgivable. Still, it is rather startling to come across something like, say, this on page 517:

When the time is reached at which it might have struck the retina, and so long as the linear role U of quantum theory holds true (i.e. deterministic Schrödinger state-vector evolution, cf. p. 323), we can have a complex linear superposition of a nerve signal and not have a nerve signal.

....and realize that you actually understand what he's talking about. I'm not suggesting that everyone reading this review should immediately be able to comprehend this quote - indeed when I first encountered it, I had to flip back and forth to previous chapters in order to refresh my memory of the terms - but merely to show that by the time I encountered it in the book, I understood it. Had I seen it cold, as you perhaps are now, then I would have laughed at the thought of ever being able to comprehend it.

But what about thinking?

At long last, Penrose gets down to the nitty-gritty, and makes his point: he doesn't believe in strong artificial intelligence, which claims that intelligence and awareness is merely the result of a sufficiently complex system. Penrose argues, and I agree, that there is something missing. Computers are immeasurably more complex now than they were 50 years ago, yet they are really no closer to being sentient now than they were then. They are faster, and can do more, but they are still a dumb machine, forever doomed to follow a predestined course of action. Philosophical issues of free will aside, humans (and even grasshoppers or plankton) exhibit a non-determinism that we've yet to find outside of organic life.

Penrose suggests that this missing factor is in fact quantum mechanics: that quixotic and (currently) unknowable set of rules that govern subatomic reality, and which, under specific circumstances, can affect the classical/Newtonian world. This theory has met with a great deal of criticism, and has resulted in Penrose's conclusions today being considered "interesting but wrong". A significant problem with the theory is that there is compelling evidence to suggest that interaction between the quantum world and the classical world is only possible at very, very low temperatures - above which the kinetic energy of heat obliterates the tiny influence of the quantum world. Human body (brain) temperature is at least 100 degrees too hot for quantum theory (as we understand it today) to be able to have an observable influence onbehaviorviour.

Still, as with most adventures, the destination is not as important as the journey. We may have not answered our Ultimate Question, but we've explored our own curiosity - and found that we need to be more curious in order to understand it. Philosophers have long debated the question of whether it's possible for a human brain to be able to comprehend how it itself works -- the answer appears to be "not yet", but if you are interested in pushing your brain in this direction, Penrose's book is an excellent starting point.

Behold the Flying Spaghetti Monster!

I've found religion. Let me explain.

Forbidden by the US Constitution from promoting any one religion (or, arguably, religion in general), publicly-funded schools in the US have been increasingly exposing students to the theory of evolution over the last few decades, but not to the concept of creationism. This has never sat well with the more religious elements of US society; witness the Scopes Monkey Trial, which was the basis for the excellent play/movie Inherit the Wind.

Historically, religious conservatives have responded to this trend in one of two ways: (a) attacking science as somehow being inferior or detrimental to religion; or (b) insisting that religion is a fundamental part of the country's heritage and foundation, and therefore entitled to be included/preserved in our school system.

These arguments have met with little success; largely I believe because they're easily countered with both logic and evidence. Argument (a) is refuted by pointing out that science is incapable of promoting atheism (it's a fundamental tenet of science that you cannot prove the non-existence of something), whereas point (b) can be easily disposed of with documentary evidence thus:

Article VI, Section 2 of the US Constitution states "all treaties made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the United States, shall be the supreme law of the land." And in 1796 the US entered into the Treaty of Tripoli, which is notable for a phrase in Clause 11:

As the government of the United States of America is not in any way founded on the Christian Religion" -- Treaty of Tripoli, 1796

This document, and therefore the sentiments expressed therein, was endorsed by Secretary of State Timothy Pickering, President John Adams, and the US Senate, becoming law on 10 June, 1797. It is difficult to imagine a more clear-cut statement of the secular intentions of the Founding Fathers.

Retreating to heavily-funded think tanks for a few years, Christian Conservatives have reemerged with a new and admittedly more clever strategy: do battle with science on science's terms. Recognizing (but not necessarily admitting) that arguments based outright on "religion vs. science" have proved ineffective, they have come up with a concept that is "creationism without religion": they call it "intelligent design".

The argument basically goes like this: "There are things in the universe that are so well-constructed or well-organized that they must have been the result of intelligent decisions rather than random processes such as natural selection."

Emboldened by support from a White House and Congress that owes it a favor for electoral victory, the proponents of "intelligent design" have been assaulting school boards across the nation with a smoke-and-mirrors campaign designed to confuse them into thinking that "intelligent design" is a scientific theory, and therefore ought to be taught as an alternative to the theory of evolution. This strategy is quite clever: formerly, their attempts at introducing creationism into the classroom were easily shot down due to their religious content - but with religion removed - or more accurately (and significantly, as we will see later) unspecified - it's not as easy to detect and expose.

Witness their success with the Kansas State Board of Education, which stands poised to change the definition of science. Yes, that's right: in October, the conservative majority on the board will permit the redefinition of "science", as taught to children in Kansas. Of course, once you change the definition of science, it isn't science any more.

Science basically says: "Look at the evidence, and form a theory based on what you see. Use the theory until you find evidence that doesn't fit; at that point, adjust your theory and repeat." Note the fundamental difference here between science and religion: changing your position is unthinkable in religion, yet it is required as part of science.

The "intelligent design" argument puts the cart before the horse: it leaps to the conclusion ("the universe was designed by an intelligence"), and then seeks to provide explanations for how the evidence supports this goal. This is not science; under no circumstances will its supporters change the conclusion.

To their credit, the scientific community has refused on principle to even engage in arguments on the matter, wisely realizing that you can't use logic to defeat an argument that doesn't respect logic, and further recognizing that zealots of this kind are immune to any form of persuasion: as long as they don't admit defeat, they believe that they have won - their faith is intact. Such a strategy may be the high road, but it's not going to stop kids in Kansas being taught pseudo-scientific dogma in their science class.

The significant critical flaw in the "intelligent design" proposition is that it doesn't (dare) explain anything about this "intelligence"; mentioning any specific "God or gods" immediately exposes their position's religious motivation. We're therefore left in the curious position of having the "intelligence" being intentionally and necessarily left as an open, unanswered question, in order to avoid the Constitutional prohibition against promotion of any one specific belief system.

By carefully avoiding any promotion of any one specific religion, all religions are neatly placed on a level playing field: an "intelligent design" curriculum must be compatible with any and all religious explanations for the "intelligence" component.

Enter the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Bobby Henderson, a self-described "concerned citizen", declared himself the prophet of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and sent a letter to the Kansas State Board of Education, demanding equal time in science class for his explanation of the origin of the universe, namely, that it was created by an invisible and undetectable Flying Spaghetti Monster. If "intelligence design" is to be accepted into the school curriculum, then the same arguments can be used to demand equal time for Flying Spaghetti Monsterism.

The believers in this religion (who call themselves Pastafarians) have "discovered" the truth of human origins: we were all created by this Flying Spaghetti Monster, who deliberately planted evidence of evolution in order to hide the truth about human origins. To quote the gospel: "[Scientists do not] realize that every time we makes a measurement, the Flying Spaghetti Monster is there changing the results with His Noodly Appendage. We have numerous texts that describe in detail how this can be possible and the reasons why He does this."



Henderson's letter continues on to satirize the idiocy of the anti-science movement, claiming that global warming has been caused by a decline in the number of pirates in the world -- and indeed, a graph of "number of pirates" versus "average global temperature" shows a definite correlation! The fact that there is no causal relationship between pirates and global warming serves as a parody of the pseudo-scientific arguments used to promote intelligent design. For more laughs at the expense of creationists, see Colin Purrington's spoof of the warning labels required on science textbooks in Cobb County, Georgia!

The next year or so should prove interesting, if not decisive. As well as the Kansas affair, the US Supreme Court will address the question of the phrase "under God" in the pledge of allegiance. The court weaselled out of having to rule on its constitutionality a few months ago by ruling 8-0 to reject the case on a technicality. Attorneys general from all 50 states have urged the court to reconsider the case; the technicality has been resolved and the case is headed back up the hill. Unfortunately, by that time Bush will have made his second Supreme Court appointment, no doubt tilting the bench heavily in favor of the religious conservatives.

I find it ironic that the pledge, as originally written in 1892 by a Baptist minister does not include the phrase "under God":

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America , and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

The "under God" phrase was added during the 1950s, as a knee-jerk McCarthyist attempt to flush those godless communists out of the woodwork. For the record, I also have a problem with the words "In God We Trust" appearing on US currency.

I'm amused by the hypocrisy of those who on the one hand demand the preservation of the county's (non-existent) religious heritage, but on the other insist upon a revisionist version of the pledge. I doubt they see it this way, but that's the beauty/curse of hypocrisy.

Book Review: A Short History of the Future

Author: W. Warren Wagar

Wagar is a historian, which makes writing about the future as it if was the past an interesting idea; he terms the concept "prognostics". What's refreshing about the book is his admission up front that the further one looks into the future, the less likely your predictions are to come true (history is a cumulative process). Too often I've found a giant chasm between pure speculation, and dry predictions about the state of technology.

Wagar had the dreadful misfortune to publish the first edition mere months before the fall of the Berlin Wall. To his credit, he had correctly predicted the fall of European communism, but he had expected it to take 50 years longer than it actually did. The book's second edition was published just before the advent of the communications/internet revolution, and so this aspect of the present is conspicuous by its absence in his work.

The third edition of the book (the one reviewed here) continued the streak of bad luck: it was released a few years before 9/11. Terrorism and the "problem" of fundamentalist Islam is given scant mention in the book -- a huge cry from its importance in reality.

As with nearly every single work which attempts to portray the future, this one falls into the trap of predicting that Sci-Fi dream concepts are going to happen very soon. Within the next few hundred years, Wagar has an immortal human race populating the solar system and even travelling to the nearest stars. Although these kinds of things are the fantasy of many-a Sci-Fi buff, actual progress towards these fantasies from a scientific research point of view indicates that it's going to take a lot, lot, lot longer than we think.

By way of example: most futurists and prognosticators routinely ignore the cold, hard, unglamorous facts about space travel: it literally kills you. Absent some huge sheild (like the earth's magnetic sphere), you're going to be cooked by the sun. And if you do make it as far as Mars, living there is much more difficult than is generally realized. Of course, this assumes that you can get off the ground in the first place. Best case, humans will return to the moon in 2015. In other words: despite the technological progress made in the last 40 years, we're no closer to getting to the moon than we were before we started, back in 1960. Wow; let's hear it for progress!

The other thing that I don't agree with Wagar on is his idea of what will happen after World War 3. Wagar sees humankind engaged in a vicious backlash against consumerism and capitalism. While I might be able to accept that the generation who actually lived through the holocaust might be radically transformed, it's more difficult to believe that every generation thereafter will no longer experience greed, drive, ambition, or jealousy.

Wagar's post-apocalyptic society "eliminates" poverty by providing a standard stipend for every human being. While this may sound good in theory, the plain fact of the matter is that if you give 100 people each $100, after a week some of them will have nothing, and some will have $1000. The failure of communism underscores the fundamental aspect of human/animal behaviour: people are more motivated if they get something personal out of it. It's human nature, and no amount of wishing or prognosticating is going to change that.

Next book: The 9/11 Report