This is an extract from the OPIP book. Previously, B(obby) provided A(lice) with a few arguments that support a subjective worldview, challenging an objective reality. Note: This post has the “Speculative Theories”-tag to indicate that what is being said should be taken with a grain of salt.
A: Honestly, I’m really struggling with your claim that we create the world as we perceive it.
B: To be precise, I don’t claim anything. Subjectivity Theory is doing the claiming. Let’s separate the theory from the originator. That’s an important principle I’ll elaborate on later. Having said that, to make the discussion easier and more direct, let me play devil’s advocate and argue for the theory in the first person.
A: Okay. So you think the subjective view applies to everything?
B: For now, let’s stick to the physical world, meaning tangible matter. Subjectivity Theory doesn’t completely rule out an objective reality. The perceptions could still be triggered by an external reality, such as the rotating discs or the flowers in the example with our imaginary bee. Just for simplicity, going forward, I’ll refer to the “objective worldview” as pertaining only to physical matter.
A: Alright. So you’re saying that matter is subjective and made up, like colors.
B: Right.
A: Okay, that’s still insane. Can you prove it?
B: By asking if I can prove it, you imply the burden of proof is on me. Is that correct? Remember, I’m approaching this from what we know for sure: the subjective experience. It’s you who’s postulating an objective world.
A: You’re turning things upside down! Insane statements must be proven, not the sane ones.
B: I agree, but the question is which are which. It’s hard to tell. The insane often don’t know they’re insane. That’s what makes them insane.
A: For sure you’re driving me insane now.
B: Okay, let’s take a step back. May I ask you, why do you believe in an objective world?
A: Because it looks like that. This table in front of us exists, regardless of whether we look at it or not. It’s the evident explanation.
B: First of all, it wasn’t always the evident explanation for you. When you were an infant, your view was exclusively subjective. The understanding that objects continue to exist even when they cannot be seen, heard, or otherwise sensed—also called “object permanence”—typically begins to develop at around 6-9 months of age. It’s a slow process, even children at the age of 3-5 years show remnants of the initial subjective view when they play hide and seek by covering their own eyes and saying, “find me.” In other words, it took you many years to develop the objective view.
A: What’s your point?
B: My point is that the starting position is the subjective one. The objective worldview is derived and concluded. You can say it’s compelling, but don’t forget that every deduction also includes assumptions, no matter how obvious they may seem.
A: Maybe.
B: Second, you said you believe in the objective worldview “because it looks like that.” I’d suggest that you take the other perspective for a moment to see if it would look any different. It reminds me of a scene in Tom Stoppard’s play Jumpers, where Ludwig Wittgenstein is having a conversation with a friend about why people used to think that the Sun goes around the Earth. His friend argues that the reason is obvious: because it looks as if the Sun goes around the Earth. Wittgenstein responds by asking, “Well, what would it have looked like if it had looked as if the Earth goes around the Sun?”
A: Fair point.
B: If you take the subjective view, and postulate that you make up the material world according to certain, consistent laws, then you’d see exactly the same. One model can account for what we see, but so can the other. In this sense, the argument is a bit of a tie.
A: The objective worldview is common sense—does that really not give it any credit?
B: As mentioned before, our inherited models may not be reliable. In fact, perceiving something as common sense makes me skeptical. First, “common sense” often has an aura of unquestionability, which discourages getting challenged. Yet, these are often the very notions we should question. Second, it seems too convenient and coincidental that our initial understanding of the world would be entirely accurate. Maybe if we specify the meaning of common as “ordinary,” “conventional,” or “mundane,” then we can agree it’s common sense.
A: Too convenient?
B: Yes. Science shows us how difficult it is to get to the truth, and how easy it is to be wrong. If something presents itself on a silver platter, right out of the gate, I instinctively doubt its veracity.
A: Are there other cases that are “too convenient” for your taste?
B: Another example is the values of absolute natural constants, like the Planck length, which is 1.616255 × 10−35 m. These numbers are often described as “unbelievably small.” And I’m thinking, really? True, it’s small compared to the everyday dimensions we’re used to. But it’s 10 to the power of 35. Thirty-five. If we count it in millimeters instead of meters, it’s already down to the power of 32. I mean, I could come up with numbers larger (or smaller) than that. It reminds me of Ephraim Kishon’s humorous story “Jewish Poker” where the goal of the game is to think of a higher number than your opponent.[1] I could do a better job than 35.
A: Not sure if I’m following you now.
B: My point is this: all those natural constant numbers are incredibly close to the human experience compared to all the values they could have. And they are proclaimed as fundamental values, universally and objectively valid, not linked to any human existence or perception. I don’t buy it. It would be too convenient and too unlikely.
A: Okay, so you’re saying that constants such as Planck length must have something to do with the human experience.
B: Yes. Explaining that number won’t be easy, but that would be the task. Let’s brainstorm a bit. In the human brain, there are around 100 trillion synapses. That’s 10 to the power of 14. Could a machine with a complexity of 10 to the power of 14 create a phenomenon with a complexity of 10 to the power of 35? Keep in mind that the 100 trillion is only the number of synapses, not the number of potential connections that can result from it, which would be exponentially higher. Even ignoring this, the two numbers are already “in the same area.”
A: I think you don’t appreciate how different those dimensions are.
B: And I think you don’t appreciate how similar they are compared to all the values they could have.
A: Any other arguments for the subjective worldview?
B: You agree that you will never be able to experience anything other than your subjective experience, right?
A: I guess so.
B: This means that the subjective experience will always be your one and only reality. Why should you consider something to be real which cannot, even not in principle, be part of your reality?
A: Because objective reality can explain our subjective experiences. The theory of evolution has the answers: it explains how everything about us, including all our subjective perceptions, emotions, and perspective evolved to navigate the (objective) world.
B: Yes, but that’s coming back to the point that the subjective worldview could just as well explain the objective one.
A: Okay, keep trying to convince me of the subjective worldview. You’re not very far yet.
B: Maybe I have current physics on my side.
A: You certainly don’t.
B: Allow me to explain why I think I may. In quantum physics, the observer has a decisive impact on reality—at least according to the Copenhagen Interpretation, which most physicists subscribe to.[2] But also Einstein’s theories contain a good deal of subjectivity. Just look at his main theory’s name: relativity theory. What does relativity mean other than that it depends on which perspective you take? What could be more subjective than that?
A: The underlying idea of relativity theory is still an objective worldview.
B: I’m not sure if that’s accurate. Relativity theory doesn’t inherently require an objective worldview. This might be conflating the theory with Einstein’s personal belief in an objective world. Again, let’s separate the theory from its originator. At the very least, you must admit that there are first “cracks” in an absolute objective worldview also with those theories. And I cannot see such cracks the other way around in the subjective theories.
A: So you’re saying that quantum physics and relativity theory do have some things in common.
B: Yes. If you want to unify theories, look for common grounds. Subjectivity is a strong candidate for such common ground. To me it looks like current physics has it all on the table already. Only the right interpretation is (was) missing.
A: Bold claims… Let’s assume for a second you’re right, and that the subjective worldview is the way to go. Why is there an objective worldview at all then?
B: Maybe it’s just a shortcut by nature. Subjectivity Theory says that we create the world and this table; it doesn’t exist independently from us. Therefore, we “store” it in our mind, so that we can work with this information even if we’re not currently looking at it. But this is a bit of speculation.
A: Right, “a bit.”
B: Also, there’s an evolutionary benefit to the objective worldview: simplicity. Life is easier just believing the apple is red. Why complicate things by contemplating that every time you look at the apple, you’re creating its color? This complexity would be confusing and unnecessary. That’s likely why it took us so long to realize this. Consider that modern humans appeared around 300,000 years ago, but it wasn’t until Alhazen (c. 965 – c. 1040) that we recognized vision and color as creations of the mind. So why did it take 299,000 years? The answer might be that there was no evolutionary benefit. “Don’t think too much, just breed like rabbits” aligns more closely with nature’s intent.
A: The objective worldview just a useful tool? That sounds like a massive assumption.
B: I’m not merely claiming this, which would indeed be an assumption. Rather, I’m arguing for it. The objective worldview is what’s based on assumptions. It’s a simplified model of reality. Let’s examine the reasoning process. Objectivization is an act of induction: from specific observations (like the table being there at times A, B, and C), we derive a general law (the table is always there). In doing so, we fill in the gaps (assuming the table’s presence at times D, E, and F). While compelling, this approach could be flawed.
A: Hold on… Maybe my initial conclusion that “the table is always there” is based on just a few observations. But if I keep checking and find it still there, doesn’t that increasingly validate my assumption each time?
B: Not really. You observe that the grass is green and then conclude it’s always green. The next million times you look at it, it will still be green, but that doesn’t change that you make it up every time.
A: What’s happening here?
B: Taking your repeated experiments, like looking at the table, as corroboration of your hypothesis doesn’t work if there’s a fundamental thinking mistake—a mistake you make every time you do the experiment. Even if you conduct countless experiments, you’ll always reach the same flawed conclusion. Optical illusions are similar; on a rational level you may even know they are illusions, but no matter how often you look at them, your mind will always trick you.
A: Hm. I do agree that we should treat our models with some skepticism.
B: Right. Models are always abstract and a generalization. But nature, as we understand it, isn’t abstract. Instead, it manifests itself in specific situations. Everything beyond that is assumption. Models work great for our everyday lives, so they’re very useful. But we’re now trying to get to fundamental truths, where useful alone doesn’t cut it anymore.
A: Still, I find it too strange that the table we’re looking at right now shouldn’t objectively exist. Keep flooding me with arguments that this is true.
B: Current physics supports this view in another way, or at least comes very close to it. Atoms are composed of tiny nuclei and electrons with a lot of empty space between them. It’s more than 99.99999999999% emptiness, or nothingness. I only go 0.00000000001% further.
A: Ha, well, the 0.00000000001% makes all the difference of course.
B: It does, but my point is that when you say, “there is a table,” you’re not thinking about 99.99999999999% emptiness. Your intuitive understanding is that the table takes all the space where you can see and touch it. It’s just another thought that may make you stop and think.
A: I’m not convinced. For me, it’s a bit of a joke.
B: Talking about jokes, here’s a fitting one: do you know why you cannot trust atoms? Because they make up everything!
A: Haha. Any more serious arguments for your proposition?
B: For what it’s worth, I’m not alone. While it’s not the mainstream view, some of the greats in physics have expressed thoughts in this direction. Let me mention a few of them in the following figure.
A: Oh boy, there’s so much wrong with this line of reasoning. I could quote many other physicists who think the opposite. And those would also include the greats, as you admitted earlier (Einstein). In addition, the statements in your figure have been made a long time ago; this view has lost in popularity in recent decades.
B: You mean it lost popularity among the physicists in the last 50 years who didn’t bring any fundamental progress in the last 50 years?
A: Eh… if you want to put it that way, yes. Another issue I have with your graph is a simple one: it’s arguing from authority. That’s never valid.
B: You’re right, and that wasn’t my point. I’m not trying to corroborate my views with namedropping. My only point is that the proposition of subjectivity should be taken seriously. It’s still science and shouldn’t be dismissed as pseudoscience. It’s a view that deserves to be debated.
A: I’m not so sure. Several people you quoted were quite susceptible to religious and mystical ideas, so their statements should be treated with caution. Maybe that’s the biggest issue I have with your proposition. I’ve heard so many new-age people, “spiritual leaders” and philosophers say things that come dangerously close to what you’re saying. Their way of reasoning is so fuzzy, unscientific and flawed—it goes against logic, reason and to be honest, everything I stand for. If I know one thing in my life, it’s that they cannot possibly be right.
B: Now you’re touching on a very interesting point. You’re right—their arguing is so wrong that it hurts. However, at that point you’re also susceptible to making a thinking mistake. You think that because their reasoning is flawed, everything they derive at must be wrong. That may not be the case. It could be that they got to a correct insight by coincidence. They’re a bit like the broken clock that also shows the right time twice per day. I’ll elaborate on this later.
A: Maybe, but I’m still not convinced.
B: You know what’s funny? If I were someone who believed that colors are not subjective, you’d face exactly the same challenges convincing me as I do now trying to convince you about the subjectivity of matter. We don’t need to roleplay this (update: maybe we do), as the arguments would be similar, but you can think it through for fun.
A: Alright, maybe later. For now, just to make progress, let me play ball and assume for a moment that what you said earlier is right, and that there is an evolutionary benefit from an objective worldview. How does it come about exactly? What are the specific steps?
B: The objective worldview is based on the concept of consistency. You look at the table again later, and it’s still there. And at the core of consistency, there‘s the concept of agreement. Your self from moment A sees the table, and your self from moment B sees it too. You both agree. And I, an outsider from your perspective, also agree: I confirm, the table is there. So you think, “Alright, Bobby also says there is a table, so it’s not just me.” That’s how the picture of the objective world gets created, via agreements.
A: How can we agree on anything if we make up the world in our heads?
B: Your t-shirt is blue, right?
A: Yes.
B: See, there you go.
A: Sorry?
B: We established earlier that colors are subjective. And now we just agreed that your t-shirt is blue. In other words, we agreed on something that is 100% subjective, created by each of us individually in its entirety.
A: Hm. We did.
B: And this agreement exists despite us not knowing at all what the other person perceives when looking at your t-shirt. For all we know, what you call blue might be what I perceive as green. It’s hard to tell. If we dive deeper, we may find disagreements, and thereby erode the basis for our belief in an objective world.
A: Shall we seek to find such disagreements?
B: “Shall we” is a difficult question, often entangled with ethical and moral considerations. Sometimes, it’s wiser not to delve deeper and simply agree. For instance, consider the statement “This is a dialogue between a person with a good understanding of physics and another with a limited understanding.” We can agree on that, right?
A: Yes.
B: Ok good, let’s keep it at that level. We agree, and everyone is happy.
A: Maybe that’s true from a practical, “feel good” perspective. But we’re here to get to the bottom of things. So how can we find disagreements?
B: Just diving deeper will often reveal that the agreements only existed at the surface. Also, when looking for disagreements, we need to apply the right mindset. We must be open to finding disagreements and recognize them as such, rather than dismissing them. Consider this scenario: imagine you’re with a group of 100 people, all agreeing that the grass is green. Then a colorblind person joins and says he doesn’t see any green. How do most people react? Do you think they’ll say, “Oh, right, he doesn’t see green—so maybe our assumptions were wrong, and it’s not a characteristic of the grass itself”? Of course not. They’ll say, “Something’s wrong with him.”
A: This reminds me of the saying, “Exceptions prove the rule.”
B: Right. And it’s a joke of course; at least in science, exceptions falsify the rule.[3] In any case, my point is that we must welcome disagreements and further explore their meaning, instead of dismissing them. This can be hard, because it goes against established belief systems. Such psychological factors play a crucial role in facilitating or obstructing progress in physics.
A: But isn’t the group right in saying that something’s wrong with him? His color receptors are missing or malfunctioning. It’s like the completely blind person, who cannot see the table.
B: Exactly.
A: (Bamboozled look)
B: It comes back to the question if the table is “really” there then.
A: It is. Not only for me, but the blind person too, as he can touch it.
B: Now you’re bringing other senses into play, making it a bit more complex. I only took vision as example because it’s the most obvious, but it applies to all other senses as well. If someone cannot see, smell, hear, touch, or taste the table, what’s the point of trying to convince him that it’s there?
A: I said he can still touch and feel objects. So for him, the table is still there, right?
B: For that we’d need to dive deeper into what you mean with “table.” If you mean the concept that can be verified by touching it, yes. However, it sounds like you want to compensate one sense with another. That doesn’t work. Try to explain colors or vision to a blind person—either with words, or by using other senses—you won’t succeed. This is just one more sign that the concept of the table is the picture that gets created in our mind, based on different senses.
A: Hm. What else do you have to corroborate your subjective view?
B: Maybe let’s look at it holistically, beyond the field we call physics. In many domains, there has been a historical trend toward subjectivity, both on an individual level, as well as the level of society.
A: How so?
B: Let’s start with some obvious examples. Personal preferences like food, art, music, humor and so on, are all clearly subjective. The same applies to emotional responses (sadness, anger, love) and many others.
A: Sure, everybody’s different.
B: Right, this seems obvious to us. But let’s remind ourselves that this wasn’t always so. As kids, we may have said, “What, you don’t like chocolate!?” We also had to learn first that perceptions are highly subjective and can be very different.
A: That’s true.
B: Next, there are areas that we realized to be subjective only as adults. The beauty of a winter landscape, for example, may not be perceived as beautiful by someone who lives in it constantly. Moral standards and perceptions of ethics can vary significantly across cultures. Even pain can be pleasurable for some people in certain situations.
A: You can say it, sex.
B: Right. Then, there are areas where the subjectivity is quite hidden. Educated people may get to know about it at some point in their lives, but others never do. Quite a few people were surprised when I told them that colors are made up in our heads. Also, historical narratives can be so strong that people don’t realize those are subjective interpretations and can be seen entirely differently as well.
A: True.
B: And finally, there are things that don’t appear subjective in the slightest, so much so that hardly anyone considers them subjective (yet). As just elaborated, many matters turn out to be subjective. Why not accept this for matter itself?
A: You were just talking about narratives, and I think you’re now trying to construct one yourself. You’re pretending that an outrageous conclusion like “matter is subjective” is just the logical continuation of other thoughts.
B: Could be, yes. But you still have to deal with it.
A: I do, by concluding that it’s nonsense.
B: Maybe you’re right. I still wanted to put it out there. I also like the irony of it. As children, it takes us years to learn the objective worldview, and once we got it, we take a turn and successively learn how subjective the world is. This also demonstrates the importance of unlearning for progress.
A: Even if the narrative was somewhat true, your conclusion isn’t forced.
B: That’s right, it’s not a proof. But mounting evidence can be valuable too. At the stock market, there’s the saying “the trend is your friend.” Maybe it applies to physics too.
A: I don’t think physics is like the stock market.
B: There are at least some parallels. Both are all about making the right predictions. Also, in physics, like in the stock market, people “bet” on certain theories over others. Theories rise and fall in popularity, reminiscent of trends in fashion, art, business—or the stock market.
A: Let’s not get distracted. Just because there might be a trend toward subjectivity, it doesn’t mean it applies to everything.
B: This view seems like defending an old concept against a tide of new insights. It reminds me of the religion vs. science debate. When humanity had limited scientific understanding, almost all phenomena were attributed to God. As our understanding of the world grew, many phenomena could be explained logically, without any requirement for a deity. Today, even many theologians no longer deny evolution by natural selection; the evidence is just too overwhelming. However, science hasn’t yet explained how it all started, so theologians now postulate that it was God who kicked it all off. But this “God of the gaps” position, always retreating to whatever science hasn’t explained yet, isn’t very convincing.
A: You mean I’m defending the gaps? I’m not sure this analogy holds for the objective vs. subjective world debate.
B: Like every analogy, it’s wise to take it with a grain of salt. But at least it gets my point across. More directly pertaining to physics, I do know that one of the key methods to reach unification in physics is to expand a certain insight into other areas, in the style of “It doesn’t only apply to X, but also to Y.” “Not just an apple can experience gravity, but planets too” “Not only do electric currents create magnetic fields but it can be the other way around too” “Not only light exhibits wave-particle duality but matter too” are all examples for this principle. “Not only colors are subjective but matter too” would be just another instance of this principle in action.
A: You’re oversimplifying things now. It feels like you’re trying to sneak your wild theory into general acceptance with some smooth talking.
B: If you want a new theory to get heard, you have to apply all tricks of the trade.
A: At least you’re honest. In any case, is there an experiment that could prove an objective or subjective reality?
B: As just mentioned, we should look for disagreements. One type of disagreement is the classic one—making predictions that would disagree with today’s theories. Earlier I stated two ideas for such experiments [one of them can be found here]. Second, we should keep looking for disagreements between different observers, as Einstein already started, to corroborate the subjective worldview—or refute it, of course. For sure we need to keep investigating to finally get an answer to this longstanding philosophical question.
(…)
To read the full chapter, get the OPIP book.
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[2] For the popularity of the Copenhagen Interpretation, see Schlosshauer, M. et al. (2013): „A Snapshot Of Foundational Attitudes Toward Quantum Mechanics” (Studies in History and Philosophy of Science). While the Copenhagen Interpretation assigns a crucial role to the observer, it leaves open what constitutes an observer (not implying the need for consciousness), and at which point in the process a measurement is made. This “measurement problem” is one of the key open questions in quantum physics today.
[3] The meaning of the saying “The exception proves the rule” is contested. One way it is used is that an exception demonstrates that a rule exists at all (e.g., “No charge on Sundays” implies that on other days there is a charge). Another use comes from a legal principle where “prove” meant “test” rather than the contemporary meaning of “demonstrate the truth of.” However, this older usage is now outdated. In a scientific context, the saying is probably best understood as disproving a rule, calling for its reevaluation or adjustment.
