a ruminative polymath.

Any sort of break from responsibilities tends to behave as a sort of fertilizer for introspection....

Sat, 23 Mar 2013 18:59:28 -0400

Any sort of break from responsibilities tends to behave as a sort of fertilizer for introspection. It’s no surprise that it used to be the core of my existence during my teenage years. In the years where I spent much time working at home, away from people, what else could occupy my mind? Of course, introspection is not necessarily fruitful.
I have many friends whose goal is to reduce their thinking. I can sympathize. Wittgenstein once remarked that the “philosopher treats a question; like an illness.” He approached philosophy as a sort of “therapeutic” enterprise, where instead of building grand theories, philosophy should expose the faulty assumption that underlie our great questions. I cannot doubt that Wittgenstein says this, in part, as a response to his own heavy amount of introspection.
Why should introspection be “like an illness?” I cannot present any formidable answer to that question. However, I can present an analogy that perhaps yields some insight.
Imagine some vast ocean. These are your emotions. Where do you stand while inspecting this ocean? Perhaps on raft, a boat, some cruise-line; or perhaps you are helplessly paddling around in the ocean itself. This is your reasoning.
This analogy is meant to serve as a primitive model to how thinking works for humans. If we find ourselves in some peaceful tides, with a beautifully clear sky that stretches to the horizon, why think at all? Or this could be the best environment for thinking. What can be derived from this analogy is that introspection does not occur in a vacuum. Whatever thinking is being performed, it will inevitably be plagued by the emotions that underlie it.
So why think at all? Well, how else do you expect to navigate better? In the introduction to “The Foundations of Arithmetic,” Frege expounds his fundamental principle of “always to separate sharply the psychological from the logical, the subjective from the objective.” Conveniently, he offers no way of doing this. (To be fair, there probably isn’t a way to do this.) Yet, it’s what makes any sort of thinking fruitful. Particularly, introspection allows a person to approach a problem in a more logical form. Even though reactions to any life event will be emotional, it is introspection that allows someone to fight against the currents.
As negative as the exercise may appear to be, it is ultimately the only way to wrestle with our humanity.

Epistemology and "The Human Condition"

Tue, 08 Jan 2013 04:33:00 -0500

“Probably the most important lesson I’ve learned from epistemology is that most human problems involve epistemological problems. We can question whether the world exists, and if it does, whether it is as we think it is. We learn that there is some form of logical leap taken whenever one wants to accept anything about the external world, and this such leap is salient in everyday problems. I thought such-and-such thing was in a such-and-such state, so I reacted accordingly. Problems occur. We can take this a bit further and then question patterns and their ability to predict the future. We believe a such-and-such event will cause some other such-and-such event, and I react accordingly. Problems occur. These problems, though, seem to be a mere puzzle where we know the start and the end, and we are merely trying to find a correct path. We have general strong views on how the world is and how the future behaves thanks to math and science, and we are simply creating the logical steps to transforming them into solutions.
The trickier problem is the problem of other minds. Initially, one can question the existence of other minds. More or less, there are generally accepted views of this. Yet, if we ask about the content of other minds, we are in trouble. We’d like to think that what is in our minds is reflective of what is in the minds of other people. This problem seems easier out of sheer amount of information; the other person can talk to you! However, that really only exacerbates the problem, as this quote eloquently states:
“I am not what I think I am. I am not what you think I am. I am what I think you think I am.”
The problem lies in knowing ourselves, and being secure in knowing ourselves. The difficulty lies in our ability to be deceived, since the other person is able to lie. The project of epistemology is to produce reasonable ways of answering, or at least overcoming these problems.”
What is unexpected is how close to home these problems are.

Being open-minded

Sun, 18 Nov 2012 22:42:50 -0500

means being aware of your most fundamental assumptions.

Photo

Tue, 29 May 2012 00:43:43 -0400

"Concentric geometries of transparency slightly joggled sink through algebras of proud inwardlyness..."

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 19:06:00 -0400

“Concentric geometries of transparency slightly
joggled sink through algebras of proud
inwardlyness to collide spirally with iron arithmethics…”

- E.E. Cummings, “W [ViVa]” (1931)

"It is no crime to be ignorant of economics, which is, after all, a specialized discipline and one..."

Sun, 04 Mar 2012 13:29:00 -0500

““It is no crime to be ignorant of economics, which is, after all, a specialized discipline and one that most people consider to be a ‘dismal science.’ But it is totally irresponsible to have a loud and vociferous opinion on economic subjects while remaining in this state of ignorance.””

- Murray Rothbard

"And all this madness, all this rage, all this flaming death of our civilization and our hopes, has..."

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 23:09:25 -0500

“And all this madness, all this rage, all this flaming death of our civilization and our hopes, has been brought about because a set of official gentlemen, living luxurious lives, mostly stupid, and all without imagination or heart, have chosen that it should occur rather than that any one of them should suffer some infinitesimal rebuff to his country’s pride.”

- Bertrand Russell in “The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell (via philphys)

The Problem of Induction

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 18:41:00 -0500

Let’s say you’ve only seen white geese throughout your whole life. With this in mind, someone approaches you and asks you to describe the next goose you will see. Thanks to your past experiences, you cannot help but mention that it will be white.

Essentially, to conclude that all objects contain a property based on the observation that this property is contained within a few objects is called induction.

This tends to be a successful at times. When asked if the sun will rise tomorrow, one can merely cite all the past times that the sun has risen. Or when attempting to apply a scientific law, we can be sure that we will succeed based on the success of all the past instances of success. In mathematics, induction is powerful enough to allow mathematicians to use it to define and prove properties of numbers and mathematical objects.

For instance, it’s not difficult to prove that the square of a positive integer is the sum of the odd postive integers of that size:

- Base Case: 1 = 1^2, 1 + 3 = 2^2, 1 + 3 + 5 = 3^2
- Inductive Step: Assume that this is true for k.
We want to show that this is true for (k+1),
ie. 1 + 3 + … + (2k-1) = k^2 is true,
so we add (2(k+1)-1) to both sides:
1 + 3 + … + (2k-1) + (2(k+1)-1) = k^2 + 2k + 1
which is equal to:
1 + 3 + … + (2k-1) + (2k+1) = (k+1)^2
QED.

Beautifully simple, right?

Induction has proven itself to be useful in this way. However, induction suffers from a logical inconsistency. See, induction functions so well in mathematics because the objects that are being studied have a rigid definition. No mathematician will present confusion at the notion of a positive integer.

Yet, consider the example given before. Is it correct to conclude that all geese are white based on having seen just a few? Definitely not, as “white” would then be part of the definition of “goose.” And certainly, instances of non-white geese have been observed. Similarly, it is not in the definition of “sun” that we will observe it rise everyday. In fact, it is possible that something may occur to impede the sun from rising. That we cannot check this to be true enlightens on the nature of this logical inconsistency. With mathematics, there was the luxury of checking any instance I wanted. But in reality, I cannot check every instance of the run rising to make sure that I am right in concluding that the sun will rise tomorrow. The same applies to any scientific law, as no one can check every instance of gravity to make sure that the laws governing gravity will always hold. To suppose that we do have knowledge would mean to conclude what we want to prove, which itself is a logical fallacy.

So, when working in mathematics, it’s perfectly acceptable to make assumptions about some object that is aapproached. In reality, doing such a thing can easily lead us astray.

omoriboy: aand heres to -hic- not fukcin thsi yearr up asb ad...

Tue, 10 Jan 2012 12:43:16 -0500

omoriboy:

aand heres to -hic- not fukcin thsi yearr up asb ad as th lsat one„„

I lied awake. The consequences of that were typical. It meant I was probably tossing and turning,...

Tue, 10 Jan 2012 01:39:00 -0500

I lied awake.

The consequences of that were typical. It meant I was probably tossing and turning, unable to find an optimal sleeping position. It meant that I was going to wake up feeling tired. It meant that I’d beging falling asleep in the middle of doing work tomorrow. (Or today, since it’ll technically be today) It meant that I was probably mentally fixated on something. It probably meant something was bothering me.

Yes, that seems right.

So I was faced with this dilemma: I could continue to attempt sleeping or I could remain thinking. I had been doing both, and that wasn’t working.

I looked around. My eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, so I was blind to my surroundings. I could hear, but I was surprised by the quietude. I suddenly started imagining that I was encapsulated by a dark fog that swallowed all light and sound.

“Hello,” I whispered.

As quickly as I had made the sound, it disappeared. I failed to dissipate the quietude. That was disappointing. So I tried again, snapping my fingers. I heard the short snap under my sheets, but it was only a temporary break from the quiet.

Wait, why am I doing this?

I didn’t want to wake anyone up with my loud thoughts. Or perhaps I did. I sat up, feeling the cold carpet under my toes. I stood up. Surprisingly, the floor creaked with each step I made. I hadn’t noticed that before. It inspired me to tip toe out of the room, taking my time to open and close the door. I walked though the hallway and into the living room. There was a rectangle of yellow light on the floor, whose origin was the windows that faced the street. I sat down on a sofa and inspected this phenomenon, focusing on it and closing my eyes. I tried for a third option; clearing my mind.

After a while, it seemed, I heard a tapping approaching. The steady tapping closed in, ending right in front of me. I opened my eyes. The figure before me was breathing slowly. I turned around and saw that the yellow now lighted the figure’s face.

“Are you alright?” a familiar voice said, emmitting from the figure.

I looked at the voice, but I didn’t respond. I felt paralyzed. The thoughts that had plagued me all night left my mind, leaving only the negative feelings. I wanted to communicate at least this, but the words escaped me. The numbness had overtaken me.

“Come here,” the voice whispered.

I noticed that the figure had outstretched its arms. Though my mouth was unable to form words, the rest of my body was responsive. I stood up steadily. I let out a sigh, closing my eyes and leaning towards the figured.

Instead, I felt a hard force pushing against me. I opened my eyes. The familiarity had suddenly gone away. The room became dark. The surface I lied on as solid. A frigidity started to set in. The darkness seemed to go on for miles. I felt incredibly in this bleakness. There was a swooshing sound, but no wind to accompany it. I knew this feeling. It was fear. I felt my heart beat faster, faster, louder, stronger, cruder, farther, longer, swifter, deeper, quicker, tougher, and stop.

I awoke to find myself breathing rapidly. I turned to look up, noticing I was home. I took a deep breath and tried to collect myself. I looked out the window, noticing that it displayed the grey of the sky.

I remembered what had been bothering me.

A bulb of light emanated from the lantern on the ground. The wind blew softly, but the lantern’s...

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 21:50:00 -0500

A bulb of light emanated from the lantern on the ground. The wind blew softly, but the lantern’s light remained fixated in its spherical shape. The flames seemed to dance like snakes, following the rhythm of the wind. The light was fierce; the heat was lacking. I withdrew my hands into my sleeves and crossed my arms in defense against the cold.

“It’s oddly refreshing, isn’t it?” she asked.

I wasn’t sure what she was referring to. Was it the oddness of a cold day destroying a sequence of tepid days? Was it that we finally found time to spend with each other? Was it the hike to this scenic view of the town? Maybe it was the scene itself. After all, the lights of the city penetrated our view more strongly than the light of stars. I somehow found it beautiful.

I sensed the satisfaction in her tone, so I turned to see if I could discern a smile on her face. The lantern sat between us. There was a slight twinkle in her eyes as she looked at the view. She hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees, giving her a child-like appearance. I couldn’t help but wonder if she looked on with the same incredulity that I did. In fact, I couldn’t discern whether she was smiling or not. The lantern created a shadow with her knee that blocked the lower half of her face.

“Are you happy?” I asked.

She chuckled.

I turned back to the scene. I could anticipate her delayed response. While I waited, I noticed that the clouds were moving slowly away from us. I hadn’t noticed that before. I had known that the clouds moved, I had just never noticed them move. What was most odd about this realization was that the clouds never seemed mobile. They were almost always there, simply forming a facade for daily occurrences. Yet, that’s probably why I hadn’t noticed their movement before. With something so prevalent in everyday life, it’s easy to pay less attention to it.

“Are you?” she asked.

In spirit of the conversation, I responded with silence. In the corner of my eye, I noticed her head turn in my direction. I looked on, statue-like. Looking at the clouds remained a peaceful activity.

A crack formed in the clouds, revealing part of the moon. It looked larger than usual. It’s incredible that something I could cover from sight with my thumb was so imposing. It was part of the Earth, theorized to have formed when a rogue body struck it back when the Earth was still young. The Earth is now billions of years old, but the moon looms over as a reminder of the cataclysmic event. I appreciated that the consequence was so magnificent. This appreciation seemed funny to me. If anything had been alive at the time, it would probably have had the opposite feeling toward the moon.

I peered at her crossing her legs and staring at them. I took the opportunity to turn and get a glimpse of her face. The lantern shone with the same luminosity. Her lips were now hidden behind her drooping hair, but I could see her cheeks now. I saw that her eyes were not the only things that twinkled.

I found the answer I sought.

“It’s late. Let’s get going.” I said.

I stood and picked up the lantern, turning to the path that went downhill, expecting to hear her stand up behind me. She remained sitting. I had an inkling of how she felt, but I decided to let it go. Instead, I held the lantern in front of me, shining light on the path.

I knew where I had to go.

Human Constructions

Sun, 13 Nov 2011 00:14:00 -0500

Think of most things you value: love, morals, family, etc. Now, how many of those things would exist without humans? In other words, can you conceive of any of these things existing without humans being a necessary condition?
While realizing that many of things require humans is not surprising, what seems surprising is how many of them would cease to exist without humans. The significance of this is realizing where our values are placed relative to what exists in the universe. For instance, it’s become clear that most of the things we value lack some sort of material manifestation. I don’t mean that the thing we value is itself not material, but that there the thing we value leaves no material trace of its existence. Sure, it exists in our minds, the minds of many different people, but it doesn’t have a defining material trait. As such, what sort of justification do we have for their existence?
It’s an odd predicament, isn’t it? I can’t doubt the existence of the chair I sit on because it’s physical manifestation is obvious; I am sitting on it, it is taking up room, etc. Yet, what sort of justification do I have for the existence of something like happiness? See, even some sort of effect of these things wouldn’t be able to prove their existence; such a thing would be a fallacy called begging the question. This is because, in lieu of a conditional, I can’t prove the antecedent from the consequent. There’s no need to be esoteric with such an error: if I tell you I’m smiling because I’m happy, do you have any good reason to believe that I am happy?
This can be drastically extended for a powerful effect. Does money have value? Well, it has the power to be traded because it has value, but just because I am able to trade it, does it follow that it has value? Of course not, I can only merely believe that it has value. I would even contend that similar reasoning can be used to undermine most things that require humans as a necessary condition.
Yet, there’s little reason to be worried. Many a constant thinker desire to fall into hedonism upon the realization that things like “value,” “meaning,” and “truth” in themselves have no justification. That’s why it’s important to remember that we are all human.
For instance, I am currently seeing red. Any basic physics class will teach that the color “red” is the effect of a lightwave of ~650 mm being reflected on an object that is interpreted by the human eye. In short, “red” doesn’t exist. The “red” is merely an interpretation of a human eye, nothing that manifests itself physically without humans. As such, I am thoroughly convinced of the ontological status of “red.” It only exists because humans exists. Yet, upon this realization, I do no stop seeing red. In fact, as powerfully as I will myself to stop seeing red, I still see it in front of me. As such, it is real enough for me, so real that I cannot will it out of existence from my mind.
What does this mean for many other human constructions? Simply that we must maneuver through them and find those that are so fundamental that it is seemingly impossible to remove them from our minds. In this quest it is that we could find the link between the existence of humans and their relation to the universe.

The Sun Will Rise Tomorrow

Thu, 27 Oct 2011 20:53:04 -0400

An infamous objection to this reasoning is David Hume’s argument in “Sceptical Doubts Concerning the Operations of the Understanding.”² He divides all knowledge into Matters of Fact and Relations of Ideas. The negation of the former would not be a contradiction, while the negation of latter would be a contradiction. Another feature of each of these is that Matters of Fact rely on observation to be true, while Relations of Ideas rely on deductive reasoning. Hume points out that our understanding holds ideas about the unobserved, such as that the sun will rise
tomorrow. That the sun does not rise tomorrow is not a contradiction, so it is not a Relation of Ideas. Moreover, it is not yet observed, so it isn’t a Matter of Fact. Since these types of ideas do not seem to fit in either classification, it is necessary to see how we reach them. Hume points out that we know that every A observed so far has been accompanied by a B, so we conclude from that that the next A will be accompanied by a B. The missing premise here is to say that every A is accompanied by a B. But that would be circular, as the conclusion we are trying to make is already captured in that premise. In other words, to say that every A is accompanied by a B would depend on the event that the next A will be accompanied by a B, and that would be circular.

Photo

Sun, 31 Jul 2011 22:29:38 -0400

idrawnintendo: I’ve been talking about Earthbound so much, I...

Thu, 07 Jul 2011 00:28:33 -0400

idrawnintendo:

I’ve been talking about Earthbound so much, I thought I’d do a comic to back up all that talk. There was a cool feature in the game where you could play more after Giygas is defeated…that was kinda what I was thinking about here, just a group of friends, running around at night, celebrating, enjoying life.

True happiness.

Ramblings on the Problem of Zero

Wed, 06 Jul 2011 02:33:00 -0400

Just like math, language is a human invention that has allowed for the representation of the world in a form that can be interpreted. Language changes all the time so it can accommodate all things in the world, whether it’s as grand as a new particle or as simple as a mix of emotions. However, zero is incompatible with language.

Language functions similarly to math, and the best examples deal with affirmative and negative statements.

Affirmative: I have five apples: 5 apples
Negative: I have lost five apples: -5 apples
Affirmative: I have zero apples: 0 apples

See the last one? There’s something tricky about how the lack of quantity affects language. See, there’s really only one way to express your ownership of five apples (unless you pull out your thesaurus and change “have,” but that’s irrelevant). Moreover, the statement can only be affirmative (we’re maintaining the “I have” format). In contrast, talking about the lack of apples can be either affirmative or negative.

I have zero apples = I do not have apples
Affirmative = Negative

I other words:

+ = -

The beauty of language is that it’s fine if something seemingly contradictory is said because language doesn’t solely depend on words for meaning. But if we were looking at it from the point of a logician, who only gets meaning from the word, this seems rather odd. Both statements are saying the same thing, but it’s rather hard to account for one containing a negative and the other one not containing a negative. Luckily, language can accommodate special cases, like zero.

So why is zero so tricky? Well, zero had to be invented because language never accounted for the lack of something in any symbolic way. Unlike most words that gain their meaning from something corresponding to the world, “zero” came from something artificial. What’s crazier than having invented a symbolic representation of nothing is that we treat it as though it were something, which causes massive errors.

It’s easy to give examples of these paradoxes:

x = 0
x(x-1) = 0
x-1 = 0
x = 1
1 =0

The error here is that we divided by zero. Regarding mathematical rules, it’s easy to show how this can be false. But the bigger question is, where does this exist in the universe? There’s nothing in the universe that can cause one to equal zero in any way. Yet, this can happen in math, so there seems to be a disconnect between mathematical language and the universe. Nothing in the universe can cause these sorts of errors in the universe, so there’s something that this implies:

Zero doesn’t exist in the real world.

Living in Four Dimensions

Sun, 03 Jul 2011 05:02:00 -0400

Surprisingly, thinking about the fourth dimension is quite difficult for most people. Yet, what most people don’t realize is that they actually do it all the time.

I suppose the initial question is: what does the fourth dimension look like?

It’s not a good question, particularly because our eyesight is limited to seeing spatially in only three dimensions. However, it’s not difficult to imagine how the fourth dimension functions.

Imagine your room (whether you share it or not) a week from now. Or imagine the same room a week ago. Does it look the same? Is it cleaner/dirtier? Are you in it? It’s not hard to imagine, right?

If it isn’t, congratulations! You’re officially thinking in the fourth dimension. As you can probably guess, the fourth dimension in our own world is time, which is why it’s almost impossible to place this in visual terms. I mean, can you see time?

But that’s essentially how the fourth dimension works. If you say that you want to look at something at a certain time with coordinates for the length, width, and height, then you’ve given four different pieces of information that compose a point in the fourth dimension. See, our minds think of dimensions as things we can “move” through. Technically, we do move through time, it’s just not as deliberate as moving outside of your room or five blocks away. This helps explain why the mind cannot visualize this mysterious fourth dimension; we only travel through it in one direction! We don’t have to deliberately expend energy to do this, which is why the mind isn’t equipped right away to think about the fourth dimension.

In the book, “Flatland,” the shapes in the two-dimensional world are confused because they cannot perceive what the sphere, from the three-dimensional world, looks like. Since these shapes can only look in the two dimensions, they only see a circle that can continually change shape. To us in the third-dimension, it’s a sphere that has a singular radius, which can be cut in several ways to yield the circles of different radii that explains why the two-dimensional shapes are so confused. To us, a “sphere” in the fourth dimension will only look like a regular three-dimensional sphere when it intersects with our world. In fact, the shape looks visually different in the fourth dimension (if you can imagine time as a line, and then add the other three dimensions, you’ve ascertained what it visually looks like).

Knowing that you live in four dimensions makes the world look differently, right? Probably not, but it does mean you’ve understood how much more limited humans are by their limited ability to perceive.

The Semantics of x/0

Tue, 28 Jun 2011 15:58:00 -0400

Input “5/0” into an TI-83 or older model and the calculator will be quick to point out that your input is “undefined.” It makes sense that it doesn’t make sense. Essentially, what is happening is that the calculator can’t figure out how many zeroes there are in the number “5.” This interpretation, that division is figuring out how much of the denominator is in the numerator, is the most basic mathematical interpretation of the division function.

Zero is fucking weird. While it’s background and implications are vast, zero can be described as a mere variable that is meant to represent nothing. If zero didn’t exist, our mathematical systems would fail to account symbolically when nothing occurs (which makes the invention of zero a bit inevitable). Yet, here we toy with something that represents nothing as though it were something. We’ve gotten pretty damn good at it too.

In this case, we’re trying to figure out how much nothing there is in something. Considering that something and nothing are semantic opposites, that’s impossible.

But let’s pretend that there was no contradiction between something and nothing. Many thinkers have attempted to bridge the gap by saying that even nothing is something, or with other more clever ways. If that were true, then we could divide anything by zero. Since zero is now something, instead of nothing, we can figure out how many zeroes a quantity has. In other words, we can solve the problem of how much nothing there is in something.

Since we can’t directly divide x with any machine, we’ll approximate it.

x/.01 = 10x
x/.0001 = 1000x
x/.000000001 = 100000000x
x/.000000000000000000000001 = 100000000000000000000000x

If we continue this progression, we will continue on to infinity. That means there is an infinite amount nothingness in everything!

Wait, we can make sense of this.

In physics, all elementary particle have a size of zero. With this in mind, we can theoretically have an infinite amount of particles compose of even the most minute of measurements (The argument regarding our universe being finite or infinite comes into play, but I won’t get into it). Alright, so we can avoid getting freaked out by holding an infinite amount of nothing in our hands because it’s really what we’re doing.

Philosophically, it means that nothing has meaning. See, something has to be able to accommodate nothing in it’s definition, which causes a word implosion. It follows that something has no meaning. This is also incredibly difficult to solve, thanks to the confusing nature of meaning, but it can certainly be dealt with. See, it all has to do with where you believe meaning comes from. Is meaning an invention from human nature? Let’s go with yes, and you’re done! Or take whatever theory you feel explains it thoroughly enough.

The point is that there are real questions that continue to pervade regarding something as simple as “x/0.” And while there aren’t any solid answers, as a society, we have learned to deal with this nonexistence very easily. Just ignore it! It may sound negative, but it’s important to realize that the invention of zero has allowed for an amazing amount of productivity in many of the mathematical sciences. Had we remained with a lack of tolerance for this unknown, who knows how much progress we would have failed to make.

I’m glad to own this awesome keychain.

Tue, 28 Jun 2011 04:45:08 -0400

I’m glad to own this awesome keychain.

Why Nihilism Fails.

Tue, 28 Jun 2011 04:23:00 -0400

When Hume demonstrated an argument challenging the existence (or our ability to demonstrate the existence) of causality, he explicitly stated that philosophy should not be taken outside its realm. He had a good point; if anyone had been convinced by his argument and lived his/her life as though cause didn’t exist, they would be in terrible danger. While his wisdom may or may not be entirely true, there is certainly one thing that he points out: the gap between theory and practice. The same issue exists in math (where the hell will you find transcendental and imaginary numbers in the world?) and other sciences (curved space-time and the existence of semantic memory are beyond our senses and current technology). Yet, the gaping distance is little perceived if only because of how pragmatic these disciplines have demonstrated themselves to be (ie. they have placed a reliable predictability in the world, albeit incomplete). There is possibly something in the world that gives meaning to these disciplines.

Nihilism is all about dealing with the nonexistence of all type of meaning. It is absolutely an interesting and even eye-opening subject to study. However, next to “I don’t know,” “it doesn’t exist” is the easiest answer anyone can give to a problem. (Add “It’s bullshit” to the end of every answer to sound like a pretentious existentialist).

What is morality?
Morality doesn’t exist.

How can we define happiness or any other type of “emotion?”
Emotions don’t exist.

What does it mean to be human?
“To be human” doesn’t exist.

How do we know if something exists?
“Existence” doesn’t exist.

See? I don’t mean to put down existentialism; it is certainly a subject that has helped advance philosophy and our understanding of the world. What I am is criticizing is taking nihilism as an actual standpoint.

As the examples above demonstrate, to simply say “it doesn’t exist” leads to a dead end very fast. While everything can be explained away, it yields nothing in return. Really, it’s as though someone constructed an elaborate function that merely spit out zero no matter what the input was. Nihilism’s usefulness lies only in it’s use as a critical tool, that is, it can question propositions and assumptions about knowledge. This is why I don’t entirely disagree with nihilism.

Nihilism came about as a response to the growing anxiety that these questions inflicted. When we are faced with a question we have no answer to, we either attempt to answer it or concede to not knowing. Nihilism is a way of saying that, since the answer hasn’t been found, there must not be one. In this way, it helped remove the anxiety of not knowing. But it also made us fucking lazy.

This is why I brought up Hume’s former wisdom: adopting an idea that may be incompatible with the world is dangerous. To continue to doubt the existence of all meaning in life leads to a counterproductive bout. Nihilism can only destroy, and we cannot get anywhere unless we build. The more dangerous consequence of adopting nihilism is the destruction of reason.

Case in point: Fyodor Dostoevsky. In “Crime and Punishment,” the main character’s nihilistic turmoil was solved by adopting Christianity (symbolized by the cross that Sonya, the Mary Magdalene figure, hands him). When reason has seemed to fail to produce an answer, which is the inevitable conclusion of nihilism, it becomes easier to adopt really anything that can give us answers. In Dostoevsky’s case, Russia had lost it’s faith in Christianity (due to political corruption), so it adopted a nihilistic culture. In response, Dostoevsky offers Christianity again, only in a prettier package. There is really no other way to get out of nihilism other than the “leap of faith” that Kierkegaard prescribed from his philosophy. Essentially, letting go of reason is a consequence if one is to attempt to escape out of nihilism. If anything, any philosophical standpoint should offer reason as it’s rationale for existence (even if it may not be correct).

If the lack of reason and extreme deconstructionism weren’t enough failures from nihilism, there is an even larger failure of nihilism: it fails to teach us how to live with uncertainty. See, the only way to be able to answer anything uncertain, or even live with an uncertainty, is to be okay with not knowing. Ultimately, the lack of knowledge should be overcome (theoretically). This is why nihilism can never be constructive, because “not knowing” becomes a reason rather than an inspiration. Had nihilism been able to satisfactorily answer this failure, it would have been taken with the moderation it’s creators meant for it, not the mess that arose throughout many cultures.

So, you don’t know? Live with it (or fix that).