The Perfect Plan

He looked out into the cloudless night. He took a deep breath and inhaled the pure night air, and felt the oxygen fill up his lungs. He exhaled slowly, savoring every moment. Tomorrow was going to be the day. He had waited for the day for ages. He couldn’t remember the day he wasn’t totally immersed in what tomorrow was going to be all about.
Tonight, he had time to reminisce. Although, try as he might, he could not get himself to recollect when he started working on this project. The only thing he was sure of was it was a really long time ago. But he felt sure that the effort would be worth it. It would be worth every moment spent. He felt alive. The moon was exceptionally bright. He had never felt his senses that taut before. He took another deep breath and exhaled slowly.
He had done his homework from the very beginning. He had researched a lot. He learnt everything about lock picking, alarms, security systems, underground layout of banks, explosives, getaway tactics, automobiles, electronics etc. He had read several books on crime; he had watched all movies where the protagonists were criminal masterminds who got away with the crime in the end. He even knew exactly how he was going to get all the money out from that bank, and how he would use his money laundering skills to make it seemingly vanish without a trace to everyone who would come looking for it.
His strategy was a combination of all the great techniques developed by twisted minds over the years. He had thought and thought about the entire plan making minor and sometimes not-so-minor alternatives, every now and then, till he was completely satisfied with it. It was the perfect plan. The strategy was immaculate. He would need no accomplices. It was his baby and his own. And he was going to show the world a perfect crime. He felt prepared.
He looked around his room. There were piles of reading material. There were charts, blue prints, graphs, manuscripts depicting his meticulous work over several years. There were pin ups on the walls, his calendar was filled with vital information, his dairy had essential notes he had jotted down. It was a room of a professional. It was the room of a man with only one thing on his mind. It would all have to go. He would leave no clues behind. Not a whiff. He slowly started pulling everything down, from one corner of the room. It took him more than an hour to shred every last piece of paper that had some relation with his plan. The room was now bare. He had never noticed that the wallpaper was made of purple tulips before. He took another cleansing breath, walked to the nearest garbage bin and threw away everything that had anything to do with tomorrow. That included the shredded paper. Then he walked slowly back to his place.
Tomorrow he would be one of the richest in the world. He would start anew with that amount of money. He would start a new life. He would start that new life in a different place. Even this part had been incorporated into the plan.
He went to bed then, with a smile on his face for the first time in years.
He did not wake up the following morning.
Two days later, the police broke down the door after being notified by the neighbors about a foul smell emanating from the apartment. They found a dead man in bed.
No foul play was suspected. Autopsy confirmed that the lone inhabitant of the empty house, a male of eighty five years had died due to natural causes.

The Object, The Illusion - Take Four

This post is the fourth in the series of The Object, The Illusion
The previous posts regarding the same topic can be found here – Post 1, Post 2, Post 3

Consider, this time, that there is a table in a room. We can agree here that what we associate with the table – like color, shape, feel depends from person to person, and the depth of knowledge of these properties change as we move to either macroscopic or microscopic levels. The senses/ sensors do not give us the truth about the table, only the appearance of it.

Thus it becomes evident that the real table, if there is one, is not the same as what we immediately experience by sight or touch or hearing. The real table, if there is one, is not immediately known to us at all, but must be an inference from what is immediately known. Hence these questions arise:
(1) Is there a real table at all?
(2) If so, what sort of object can it be?

Define a few terms: [from Bertrand Russell’s “Problems of Philosophy” ]

• ‘sense-data’- the things that are immediately known in sensation: such things as colors, sounds, smells, hardness, roughness, and so on.
• ‘sensation’ - defined as the experience we have immediately because of the above.
• ‘matter’ is defined as opposed to mind, as something we think of as occupying space and is incapable of any sort of thought or consciousness.
  

Considering the real table, if it exists, as a physical object; we need to find the relation between sense-data [very similar to the ‘properties’ we discussed in the previous posts] and the physical object.

Bishop Berkeley (1685-1753) in Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, in Opposition to Sceptics and Atheists, was the first to come up with the theory that there is no such thing as ‘matter’ at all, and that the world consists of nothing but minds and their ideas.

In the sense as ‘matter’ is defined above, Berkeley denies it exists- he does not deny that the sense-data which we commonly take as signs of the existence of the table are really signs of the existence of something independent of us, but he does deny that this something is non-mental. He admits that there must be something which continues to exist when we go out of the room or shut our eyes. But he thinks that this something cannot be radically different in nature from what we see, and cannot be independent of seeing altogether, though it must be independent of our seeing. He is thus led to regard the 'real' table as an idea in the mind of God. Such an idea has the required permanence and independence of ourselves, without being -- as matter would otherwise be -- something quite unknowable, in the sense that we can only infer it, and can never be directly and immediately aware of it.

Other philosophers since Berkeley have also held that, although the table does not depend for its existence upon being seen by us, it does depend upon being seen by some mind -- not necessarily the mind of God, but more often the whole collective mind of the universe.

'Whatever can be thought of is an idea in the mind of the person thinking of it; therefore nothing can be thought of except ideas in minds; therefore anything else is inconceivable, and what is inconceivable cannot exist'

But these philosophers, though they deny matter as opposed to mind, nevertheless, in another sense, admit matter. Of the two questions above:
(1) Is there a real table at all? (2) If so, what sort of object can it be?
Now, Berkeley and other philosophers admit that there is a real table, but Berkeley says it is certain ideas in the mind of God, and others say it is a colony of souls. Thus both of them answer our first question in the affirmative, and only diverge from the views of ordinary mortals in their answer to our second question. In fact, almost all philosophers seem to be agreed that there is a real table. They almost all agree that, however much our sense-data -- color, shape, smoothness, etc. -- may depend upon us, yet their occurrence is a sign of something existing independently of us, something differing, perhaps, completely from our sense-data whenever we are in a suitable relation to the real table.

There is an interesting experiment by Descartes. Descartes invented the method of systematic doubt. He determined that he would believe nothing which he did not see quite clearly and distinctly to be true. Whatever he could bring himself to doubt, he would doubt, until he saw reason for not doubting it. By applying this method he gradually became convinced that the only existence of which he could be quite certain was own. Because, doubt concerning his own existence was not possible, for if he did not exist, nothing could deceive him. If he doubted, he must exist; if he had any experiences whatever, he must exist. Thus, his own existence was an absolute certainty. 'I think, therefore I am, ' (Cogito, ergo sum). Starting from there, he proves that our particular thoughts and feelings that have primitive certainty.

Bertrand Russell says in one sense it must be admitted that we can never prove the existence of things other than ourselves and our experiences. No logical absurdity results from the hypothesis that the world consists of ourselves and our thoughts and feelings and sensations, and that everything else is mere fancy. But although this is not logically impossible, there is no reason whatever to suppose that it is true; and it is, in fact, a less simple hypothesis, viewed as a means of accounting for the facts of our own life, than the common-sense hypothesis that there really are objects independent of us, whose action on us causes our sensations.

But, he uses instinctive belief, that is every principle of simplicity urges us to adopt the natural view, that there really are objects other than ourselves and our sense-data which have an existence not dependent upon our perceiving them. We should never have been led to question this belief but for the fact that, at any rate in the case of sight, it seems as if the sense-datum itself were instinctively believed to be the independent object, whereas argument shows that the object cannot be identical with the sense-datum. This discovery, however -- which is not at all paradoxical in the case of taste and smell and sound, and only slightly so in the case of touch -- leaves undiminished our instinctive belief that there are objects corresponding to our sense-data. Since this belief does not lead to any difficulties, but on the contrary tends to simplify and systematize our account of our experiences, there seems no good reason for rejecting it. We may therefore admit that the external world does really exist, and is not wholly dependent for its existence upon our continuing to perceive it.

ps: "Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away." - Philip K Dick

The Locket

He had never cried. As far as he could remember. And, at this moment at least, the past was really clear to him. The place he was presently standing in brought the memories back. None of them, that came readily, were happy ones though. He remembered that particular day as if it were yesterday.
This place, where he was standing, along with his little brother and his grandmother, had been his house, his home for the first fourteen years of his life. The main door opened into a room with stairs leading to the altar, where he remembered his mother praying every evening. The room to the right of that place was his and his brother’s, and the room to the left was his parent’s. The house had been neither too big nor too small. It had been just right. It was times of war. It had always been most of his childhood. His brother, four years younger to him, and himself had always played in the broken, bullet spattered buildings.
But that day was different. The sounds and the screams from the city were louder and more ominous. It was late evening. His mother was praying at the altar as usual. He remembered sitting with his brother on the step at the bottom of the staircase. His brother had fallen asleep on his lap, somewhere through the story he had been reciting. For some reason that made him smile. Then it all happened at once.
The locked door was kicked open, and he was staring into the barrels of about five rifles pointed at him. He remembered not even being able to scream. The shock was intense. Natural instincts had made him turn back to seek help from his mother. He looked back wide eyed, soundlessly at his mother. He would never forget what happened next. He could see his mother stare directly at himself and his brother. She looked at the soldiers. Then she ran away from there into the room on the right. Even now he could not believe it. She had betrayed them. That realization was worse than the initial shock. That was when he screamed. That was when his brother woke up. That was when the bomb hit the house and it half collapsed. The rubble instantly buried the soldiers and his mother too. He and his brother had escaped barely. They had run from there then, with his brother clutching their mother’s locket which had somehow fallen in front of them.
That was three years today, to the date. They hadn’t discussed about that event after that day. They had stayed at their grandmother’s since then. Only their grandmother’s repeated orders had made him come back to this place after all these years.
His brother had the locket on his person at all times. It angered him, but he didn’t complain. He hadn’t told his brother about his mother’s betrayal. He didn’t want to change the impression his brother had of their mother.
His grandmother stumbled, as she walked around the place where the house had once stood. His brother hurried over to break her fall. A flailing hand caught the locket and caused it to break open. It had never been opened by his brother earlier, out of respect for his mother.
The locket, on the inside, had a picture of his mother holding both him and his brother in a warm hug. The picture was lovely. It had captured true happiness. It was a really heartwarming scene. The locket also, held some small, round, white colored pieces.
His grandmother picked one of them up, looked at it closely and remarked it was some medicine for the eye. She said ‘My daughter, your mother suffered from a certain eye disease, but she probably pretended that she could see, so that you guys wouldn’t worry. Come to think of it, she told me that she couldn’t do most anything for her children because of her condition. She must have had a real tough time on the inside, though’.
It was then that it stuck him. His mother couldn’t see them sitting on the stairs. She had run into their room to alert them, to rescue him and his brother from the invasion. She had never betrayed them. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer to his stomach.
It was then that he cried.

The Object, The Illusion - Take Two

A different take on what was posted here by sagar in his blog.

Perception of an Object:
Let us consider placing an apple in the middle of an empty room.
Argument:
Apposing to what is in the original post, an object is not a set of properties. Properties are what are ascribed to the object. They are a group of facts about the object that will come in handy when explaining about the object, when describing the object to another person, for cataloging, for demarcating between two or more objects etc. For example, the properties of an apple – like its color, its size and smell etc. can be used to differentiate it with say, a zebra.

The properties of an object have nothing to do it being real. We can always get more information about an object if we go deeper, say, into the microscopic levels. We can always increase the set of properties known. But the depth to which we need to go or the number of properties we need to find out, depends on what our purpose is or what are we looking to achieve at this particular moment. Properties serve as reference for carrying out particular tasks that are presently at hand. For our earlier example of differentiating between an apple and a zebra, we can use very basic properties – like size and color of the apple; than while differentiating between, say, a wood-apple and a normal apple.

All objects that are red, small, almost spherical, with some taste and smell are not apples. Also, it doesn’t imply that an apple can be, in totality, brought down to a group of properties. It is not true that to a person with a very keen olfactory function, the apple appears more real than to a person with a heavy cold.

It is like the experiment of the seven blind men and the elephant. In the experiment, each one would be ‘seeing’ the elephant for the first time, and each one reaches out for a particular part of the elephant, and they arrive at different individual conclusions. The person who touched the leg concludes that an elephant is like a pillar, the person closest to the trunk remarks that is like a snake, and the person who touches the stomach feels that it is like a huge tub. None of these are wrong. Each of these conclusions is an individual property. None of these by themselves give a complete description of the elephant. None of these can prove that the elephant is not real. None of these has any say in the matter concerning the reality of the elephant.

What is an Object without its properties?

An Object is real. It exists. It occupies space. It has matter.
Additionally, an Object has several unique properties that give it individuality. That makes it possible to identify it. What these properties are depends on the senses/ sensors. The more the sensors the more information/ properties about the object can be measured. The depth of understanding about the object keeps on increasing as the amount of details about it increases. But the object certainly does not become more real than it was originally.

Reality:

This brings us to a point where can define reality, using the definition of the Object and Properties.

From the original post - “Our present reality = information from senses + interpretation by mind (thoughts)” is not a really good definition of reality. This is because that senses differ from person to person. An object can not be more real to a person with better senses than to a person with some disability. And the interpretation by the mind should in no way affect the reality of the object.

Reality is absolute.

Let us define an object is REAL if it has matter and occupies space. Then, the ambiguity lessens. Because now, whether we see something or feel something or use other instruments to realize something that is occupying space and has matter, we can universally conclude that the object is real. As mentioned with increase in the number of sensors, we might get a better picture of the object, but the whole fundamental question of it being real is resolved.

Say, even with an apple in the room, suppose all of us had an additional sense of talking to fruits, we probably would have heard a different song from each apple, so that would be a new property. But, it would in no way increase the reality of the apple; or affect the reality of the apple in any way.

Also, let us consider Point 1 in the original post. Suppose, a man perceives a rope as a snake, then it has to be on first glance. Even then, at that point, we can surely say that there is an object, and it is REAL. The question of Reality of an Object is settled. Now, the perception of the rope as a snake is only because of limited data available. If the person looks closely for a second time, it would not be a very difficult task to tag the Object as a Rope. The illusion remains in the brain only till additional information is available. The Reality of the presence of the Object is unchanged

@sagar: It always comes down to definitions, man