Plato’s Cave & Social Media

 In a not-so-recent post, I referenced Philosophy Now Issue 165 (Dec 2024/Jan 2025), which had the theme, The Return of God. However, its cover contained a graphic and headline on a completely separate topic: Social Media & Plato’s Cave, hence the title of this post. When you turn to page 34, you come across the essay, written by Sean Radcliffe, which won him “...the 2023 Irish Young Philosopher Awards Grand Prize and Philosopher of Our Time Award. He is now studying Mathematics and Economics at Trinity College, Dublin. Where he is an active member of the University Philosophical Society.” There is a photo of him holding up both awards (in school uniform), so one assumes that 2 years ago he was still at school.
 
I wrote a response to the essay, which was published in the next issue (166), which I post below, complete with edits, which were very minor. The editor added a couple of exclamation marks: at the end of the first and last paragraphs; both of which I’ve removed. Not my style.

They published it under the heading: The Problem is the Media.

I was pleasantly surprised (as I expect were many others) when I learned that the author of Issue 165’s cover article, ‘Plato’s Cave & Social Media’, Seán Radcliffe, won the 2023 Irish Young Philosopher Award Grand Prize and Philosopher of Our Time Award for the very essay you published. Through an analogy with Plato’s Cave, Seán rightfully points out the danger of being ‘chained’ to a specific viewpoint that aligns with a political ideology or conspiracy theory. Are any of us immune? Socrates, via the Socratic dialogue immortalised by his champion Plato, transformed philosophy into a discussion governed by argument, as opposed to prescriptive dogma. In fact, I see philosophy as an antidote to dogma because it demands argument. However, if all dialogue takes place in an echo-chamber, the argument never happens.

Social media allows alternative universes that are not only different but polar opposites. To give an example that arose out of the COVID pandemic: in one universe, the vaccines were saving lives, and in an alternative universe they were bioweapons causing deaths. The 2020 US presidential election created another example of parallel universes that were direct opposites. Climate change is another. In all these cases, which universe one inhabits depends on which source of information one trusts.

Authoritarian governments are well aware that the control of information allows emotional manipulation of the populace. In social media, the most emotive and often most extreme versions of events get the most traction. Plato’s response to tyranny and populist manipulation was to recommend ‘philosopher-kings’, but no one sees that as realistic. I spent a working lifetime in engineering, and I’ve learned that no single person has all the expertise, so we need to trust the people who have the expertise we lack. A good example is the weather forecast. We’ve learned to trust it as it delivers consistently accurate short-term forecasts. But it’s an exception, because news sources are rarely agenda-free.

I can’t see political biases disappearing – in fact, they seem to be becoming more extreme, and the people with the strongest opinions see themselves as the best-informed. Even science can be politicised, as with both the COVID pandemic and with climate change. The answer is not a philosopher-king, but the institutions we already have in place that study climate science and epidemiology. We actually have the expertise; but we don’t listen to it because its proponents are not famous social media influencers.

Mathematics, consciousness, reality

 I wish to emphasise the importance of following and listening to people you disagree with. (I might write another post on the pitfalls of ‘echo-chambers’ in social media, from which I’m not immune.)
 
I’ve been following Donald Hoffman ever since I reviewed an academic paper he wrote with Chetan Prakash called Objects of Consciousness, back in November 2016, though the paper was written in 2014 (so over 10 years ago). Back then, I have to admit, I found it hard to take him seriously, especially his views on evolution, and his go-to metaphor that objective reality was analogous to desktop icons on a computer.
 
His argument is similar to the idea that we live in a computer simulation, though he’s never said that, and I don’t think he believes we do. Nevertheless, he has compared reality to wearing a VR headset, which is definitely analogous to being in a computer simulation. As I have pointed out on other posts, I contend that we do create a model of reality in our ‘heads’, which is so ‘realistic’ that we all think it is reality. The thing is that our very lives depend on it being a very accurate ‘model’, so we can interact with the external reality that does exist outside our heads. This is one of my strongest arguments against Hoffman – reality can kill you, but simulations, including the ones we have when we sleep, which we call dreams, cannot.
 
So I’ve been following Hoffman, at least on YouTube, in the 8 years since I wrote that first critique. I read an article he wrote in New Scientist on evolution (can’t remember the date), which prompted me to write a letter-to-the-Editor, which was published. And whenever I come across him on YouTube: be it in an interview, a panel discussion or straight-to-video; I always watch and listen to what he has to say. What I’ve noticed is that he’s sharpened his scalpel, if I can use that metaphor, and that he’s changed his tack, if not his philosophical position. Which brings me to the reason for writing this post.
 
A year or two ago, I wrote a comment on one of his standalone videos, challenging what he said, and it was subsequently deleted, which is his prerogative. While I was critical, I don’t think I was particularly hostile – the tone was similar to a comment I wrote today on the video that prompted this discussion (see below).
 
Hoffman’s change of tack is not to talk about evolution at all, but spacetime and how it’s no longer ‘fundamental’. This allows him to argue that ‘consciousness’ is more fundamental than spacetime, via the medium of mathematics. And that’s effectively the argument he uses in this video, which, for brevity, I’ve distilled into one succinct sentence.
 
My approach, well known to anyone who regularly follows this blog, is that consciousness and mathematics are just as fundamental to reality as the physical universe, but not in the way that Hoffman argues. I’ve adopted, for better or worse, Roger Penrose’s triumvirate, which he likes to portray in an Escher-like diagram. 

 
I wouldn’t call myself a physicalist when it comes to consciousness, for the simple reason that I don’t believe we can measure it, and despite what Hoffman (and others) often claim, I’m not convinced that it will ever succumb to a mathematical model, in the way that virtually all physical theories do.
 
I left a comment on this video, which was hosted by the ‘Essentia Foundation’, so hopefully, it’s not deleted. Here it is:
 
I agree with him about Godel’s Theorem in its seminal significance to both maths and physics, which is that they are both neverending. However, when he says that ‘reality transcends any mathematical theory’ (3.00) I agree to a point, but I’d argue that mathematics transcends the Universe (known as mathematical Platonism); so in that sense, mathematics transcends reality.
 
The other point, which he never mentions, is that mathematical models of physical phenomena can be wrong – the best example being Ptolemy’s model of the solar system. String theory may well fall into that category – at this stage, we don’t know.
 
When he discusses consciousness being mathematical (4.30): ‘If consciousness is all there is, then mathematical structure is only about consciousness’; which is a premise dressed up as a conclusion, so circular.
 
The problem I’ve always had with Donald Hoffman’s idealism philosophy is that consciousness may exist independently of the Universe; it’s not possible for us to know. But within the Universe itself, evolutionary theory tells us that consciousness came late. Now, I know that he has his own theory of evolution to counter this, but that entails an argument that’s too long to address here.
 
Regarding his argument that spacetime is not fundamental, I know about Nima Arkani-Hamed and his work on amplituhedrons, and to quote: “This is a concrete example of a way in which the physics we normally associate with space-time and quantum mechanics arises from something more basic.” But the something more basic is mathematical, not physical. It’s possible that there was something before spacetime at the very birth of the Universe, but that’s speculative. All our cosmological theories are premised on spacetime.
 
I actually don’t think consciousness can be modelled mathematically, but its neurological underpinnings can, simply because they can be measured. Consciousness itself can’t be measured, only its neurological correlates. In other words, it can’t be measured outside of a brain, which is an object dependent on the Universe’s existence and not the other way round.

God and the problem of evil

 Philosophy Now (UK publication) that I’ve subscribed to for well over a decade now, is a bi-monthly (so 6 times a year) periodical, and it always has a theme. The theme for Dec 2024/Jan 2025 Issue 165 is The Return of God? In actuality, the articles inside covering that theme deal equally with atheism and theism, in quite diverse ways. It was an article titled A Critique of Pure Atheism (obvious allusion to Kant) by Andrew Likoudis that prompted me to write a Letter to the Editor, but I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Likoudis, by the way, is president of the Likoudis Legacy Foundation (an ecumenical research foundation), as well as the editor of 6 books, and studies communications at Towson University, which is in Maryland.
 
More than one article tackles the well-known ‘problem of evil’, and one of them even mentions Stephen Law’s not-so-well-known ‘Evil God’ argument. In the early days of this blog, which goes back 17 years, I spent a fair bit of time on Stephen’s blog where I indulged in discussions and arguments (with mostly other bloggers), most of which focused on atheism. In many of those arguments I found myself playing Devil’s advocate.
 
There is a more fundamental question behind the ‘existence of God’ question, which could be best framed as: Is evil necessary? I wrote a post on Evil very early in the life of this blog, in response to a book written by regular essayist for TIME magazine, Lance Morrow, titled Evil, An Investigation. Basically, I argued that evil is part of our evolutionary heritage, and is mostly, but not necessarily, manifest in our tribal nature, and our almost reflex tendency to demonise an outgroup, especially when things take a turn for the worse, either economically or socially or from a combination thereof. Historical examples abound. Some of the articles in Philosophy Now talk about ‘natural evil’, meaning natural disasters, which in the past (and sometimes in the present) are laid at the feet of God. In fact, so-called ‘acts of God’ have a legal meaning, when it comes to insurance claims and contractual issues (where I have some experience).
 
The thing is that ‘bad things happen’, with or without a God, with or without human agency. The natural world is more than capable of creating disasters, havoc and general destruction, with often fatal consequences. I’ve been reading the many articles in Philosophy Now somewhat sporadically, which is why, so far, I’ve only directly referenced one, being the one I responded to, while readily acknowledging that’s a tad unfair. As far as I can tell, no one mentions the Buddhist doctrine of the 4 Noble Truths, the first of which, basically says that everyone will experience some form of suffering in their lives. Even wealthy people get ill and are prone to diseases and have to deal with loss of loved ones. These experiences alone, are often enough reason for people to turn to religion. I’ve argued repeatedly and consistently that it’s how we deal with adversity that determines what sort of person we become and is what leads to what we call wisdom. It’s not surprising then, that we associate wisdom with age because, the longer one lives, the more adversity we experience and the more we hopefully learn from it.
 
One can’t talk about this without mentioning the role of fiction and storytelling. We are all drawn to stories from the ‘dark side’, which I’ve written about before. As a writer of fiction, I’m not immune to this. I’ve recently been watching a documentary series on the Batman movies, starting with Tim Burton, then Joel Schumacher and finally, Chris Nolan, all of which deal with the so-called dark side of this particular superhero, who is possibly unique among superheroes in flirting with the dark side of that universe. One of the ‘lessons’ gained from watching this doco is that Joel Schumacher’s sequel, Batman & Robin, which arguably attempted to eschew the dark side for a much lighter tone, all but destroyed the franchise. I confess I never saw that movie – I was turned off by the trailer (apparently for good reason). I’m one of those who thinks that Nolan’s The Dark Knight is the definitive Batman movie, with Heath Ledger’s Joker being one of the most iconic villain depictions ever.
 
A detour, but relevant. I’ve noticed that my own fiction has become darker, where I explore dystopian worlds – not unusual in science fiction. I’m reminded of a line from a Leonard Cohen song, ‘There’s a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in’. I often think that applies to our lives, and it certainly applies to the fiction that I write. I create scenarios of potential doom and oppression, but there is always a light that emerges from somewhere that provides salvation and hope and sometimes redemption. The thing is that we need dark for the light to emerge and that is equally true of life. It’s not hard to imagine life as a test that we have to partake in, and I admit that I find this sometimes being manifest in my dreams as well as my fiction.
 
Having said that, I have an aversion to the idea that there is an afterlife with rewards and punishments dependant on how we live this life. For a start, we are not all tested equally. I only have to look at my father who was tested much more harshly than me, and like me, vehemently eschewed the idea of a God who punished his ‘children’ with everlasting torment. Hell and Heaven, like God himself, are projections when presented in this context: human constructs attempting to make sense of an apparently unjust world; and finding a correspondence in the Buddhist concept of reincarnation and karma, which I also reject. I was brought up with a Christian education, but at some point, I concluded that the biblical God was practically no more moral than the Devil – one only has to look at the story of Job, whom God effectively tortured to win a bet with the Devil.
 
If I can jump back to the previous paragraph before the last, I think we have to live with the consequences of our actions, and I’ve always imagined that I judge my life on my interactions with others rather than my achievements and failures. I don’t see death as an escape or transition, but quite literally an end, where, most significantly, I can no longer affect the world. My own view is that I’m part of some greater whole that not only includes humanity but the greater animal kingdom, and having the unique qualities of comprehension that other creatures don’t have, I have a special responsibility to them for their welfare as well as my own.
 
In this picture, I see God as a projection of my particular ideal, which is not reflected in any culture I’m aware of. I sometime think the Hindu concept of Brahman (also not referenced in Philosophy Now, from what I’ve read thus far) as a collective ‘mind’, which appealed to Erwin Schrodinger, in particular, comes closest to my idea of a God, which would mean that the problem of evil is axiomatically subsumed therein – we get the God we deserve.
 
This is the letter I wrote, which may or may not get published in a future edition:
 
I read with interest Andrew Likoudis’s essay, A Critique of Pure Atheism, because I think, like many (both theists and atheists), he conflates different concepts of God. In fact, as Karen Armstrong pointed out in her book, The History of God, there are 2 fundamentally different paths for believing in God. One path is via a mystical experience and the other path is a cerebral rationalisation of God as the Creator of the Universe and everything in it, which I’d call the prime raison d’etre of existence. In other words, without God there would not only be no universe, but no reason for it to exist. I believe Likoudis’s essay is a formulation of this latter concept, even though he expresses it in different terms.

Likoudis makes the valid point that empirical science is not the correct 'instrument', if I can use that term in this context, for ‘proving’ the existence of God, and for good reason. Raymond Tallis has pointed out, more than once, that science can only really deal with entities that can be measured or quantified, which is why mathematics plays such an important, if not essential, role in a lot of science; and physics, in particular.
 
Metaphysics, almost by definition, is outside the empiricist’s domain. I would argue that this includes consciousness, and despite measurable correlates with neuronal activity, consciousness itself can’t be measured. The only reason we believe someone else (not to mention other creatures) have consciousness is that their observed behaviour is similar to our own. Conscious experience is what we call mind, and mind is arguably the only connection between the Universe and God, which brings us closer to Armstrong’s argument for God based on mystical experience.

So I think the argument for God, as an experience similar to mind, has more resonance for believers than an argument for God as a Creator with mythical underpinnings. A point that Likoudis doesn't mention is that all the Gods of literature and religion have cultural origins, whereas an experience of God is purely subjective and can’t be shared. The idea that this experience of God is also the creator of the entire universe is a non sequitur. However, if one goes back to God being the raison d’etre for the Universe, then maybe God is the end result rather than its progenitor.

 
 
Footnote: I wrote a post back in 2021 in response to AC Grayling’s book, The God Argument, which is really a polemic against theism in general. You can judge for yourself whether my views are consistent or have changed.