It's hard to believe that it's 30 years and a few months since that fateful evening, driving through the wind and rain towards Lytham St Anne’s, when I suddenly saw how this material world of ours was put together... 1/n
I worked for an IT consultancy, and had been preparing a talk for a few weeks, which had taken a lot of my energy. I was trying to explain systems architecture, comparing developments in technology to the political upheavals we were seeing in the world.
The Soviet Union was falling apart, breaking into a commonwealth of independent states, while the countries of Europe were drawing together into an ever closer union. These were seen as opposing forces but they weren’t; they were both leading towards a similar federated structure
That was how technology was developing. Monolithic mainframe software was being pulled apart into modules and objects - autonomous units that talked to each other, requesting and receiving services, while protecting the integrity of their data within.
At the same time, disparate systems were beginning to reach out to each other using new internet protocols, a common language by which all computer systems could communicate, creating a cooperative network that would one day connect the world.
The presentation went really badly. I rambled on for far too long and even spilt water over my acetates, making them cling to the overhead projector so that my audience could hardly read the words on the screen. No one got what I was trying to tell them and I left despondent.
The night before my journey, I watched a TV programme about Jupiter’s Red Spot - an object that I had assumed was a fixed material thing like a continent. But in fact it was more like a hurricane, with winds blowing through, constantly changing the material from which it was made
The image I had of this object changed dramatically in my mind from something that was static and unchanging to something that was dynamic and almost alive - a stable yet ever-changing pattern within its underlying material.
But that underlying material was itself made of objects, which all danced around each other, creating that stable pattern we recognise as the Red Spot. So what if...
What if those objects are themselves just patterns in the material from which they’re made, a material that consists of objects that are patterns in the material from which they are made? Clearly this federated architecture of objects within objects must end somewhere, but where?
It would, I presumed, continue to encompass molecules, being nothing but patterns of atoms, themselves being just patterns of particles, which may themselves be patterns created by even smaller particles, and so on, and so on ...
Eventually, this would come to an end with the smallest, most fundamental particles of all - pure mathematical objects, as simple as simple can be. All I had to do to understand how the universe worked was to figure out the rules for those simple objects and build up from there.
That journey stays with me as one of the key transformative moments of my life. In an instant, I had in my mind an entirely new view of the world, one that was so different to the world I’d thought I lived in. I couldn’t wait to get started figuring out what those rules might be.
Sadly, I never managed to do this. This new worldview and the excitement it brought me literally blew my mind (well, not literally ... but, you get my gist). It took me months to recover and a few years before I could face those ideas again.
Eventually though, face them I did, and I gradually began to reflect on what I’d found, filtering out the more crazy ideas, while re-examining and building further on some of the more sensible ones. By the turn of the millennium, around 20 years ago, it all began to make sense...
The worldview I now had in my mind shared similarities with that of ten years earlier, but in truth, it was very different, much richer, one that explained not just the everyday material objects we see around us, but actual living things, complete with conscious experience.
It went way beyond my naive student dreams of discovering the fundamental Theory of Everything, explaining the workings of the universe using mathematical laws of physics. In fact, what it told me was that such a theory could not exist, since that’s not how the world really works
As you’d imagine, I started to write it all down, describing the various aspects of this new worldview, endeavouring to convince my reader that it really did make sense and that it really wasn’t as crazy as it might sound. This was a lot harder to do than I’d expected.
So, after several years of trying, I gave up, convinced that I would never be able to explain this bizarre, crazy theory of mine, and that perhaps it was best kept to myself. I mean, cells and atoms being as conscious as you or I? Who’s ever gonna believe that level of crazy?!
And yet, this theory cast light on several unanswered questions of modern science: How do we make sense of Quantum Mechanics? How do we reconcile QM with General Relativity? Why are the laws of physics so finely-tuned for Life? What caused the Big Bang?
How did Life begin? How does it defy the second law of thermodynamics? How can we have free will in a deterministic universe? And, of course, the very hard question of how and why our brains create consciousness. It was this last one I was particularly proud to have answered.
So I never really stopped thinking about these ideas, and around ten years ago, I signed up for an on-line course in the philosophy of mind, provided by Oxford University, where I’d studied maths many years earlier. I wondered whether any philosophers had had any similar ideas.
Apparently not if I was to believe the course syllabus, but having explained my key ideas to the course tutor, she diagnosed me as a “panpsychist”. I soon discovered a long history of panpsychists, as well as a growing interest in panpsychism amongst modern philosophers.
So my ideas weren’t quite as crazy as I’d thought (or at least not as original) and yet none of these philosophers - old or modern - took it quite as far as I did. They saw atoms as having the tiniest drop of experience, whereas for my theory to work, they must be fully conscious
It was clear that there was precedence for the sort of ideas I was advocating, and that I had something very important to contribute. Indeed, if my thinking was right, my theory would revolutionize not just the philosophy of mind but the whole of physical science into the bargain
And so, I started writing again, this time structuring the book around the eight intractable problems which I believed my theory could solve. I began to analyse the problems, expressing them in the simplest way possible, allowing for the solution to be expressed in a similar form
The process was working, but it was hard to find time to think through each problem, given I had a full-time job and a family to think about. I went freelance, freeing up a lot of my time, and then four years ago, I put my career on hold and began writing in earnest.
In the first year, I wrote the first half of the book, exploring and analysing each problem. It turned out the problems did not stand alone, but were linked, with each one leading to the next. However there were gaps, which led me to discover four more problems, making 12 in all.
In the second year, I solved formally each problem, beginning with the last one, winding all the way back to the first. It became clear just why there were so many unsolved problems: it was impossible to solve any one of them satisfactorily, unless you could solve all twelve.
In the third year, I asked my wife and a close friend to review the manuscript and give me some feedback. It turned out that, while the theory was great, the writing had a few problems of its own and needed more work. By the end of the year, I had rewritten most of the book.
And in the past year, I have been editing, revisiting and revising each paragraph to ensure it's as clear and compelling as it possibly can be. I have also reworked one or two of my solutions, which, it turned out, were not quite as perfect as I'd believed them to be.
I even managed to summarise the theory into a single page, which I'm pleased with. Overall, when I think back to the struggles I've had over 30 years writing this book, it is now so much better, more rigorous, more convincing and far more readable than I ever imagined it could be
In early August 2020, the paperback version of my book will be available to buy on Amazon. I decided I would self-publish initially, just to get it out there. My hope is that, by next year, I will find a publisher to release it in hardback.
Did I mention the title? It’s called “Life, the Universe and Consciousness”. It successfully solves twelve of the most intractable problems inherited from 20th century science and philosophy.
I think you will like it :)
I think you will like it :)
Unroll please @threadreaderapp :)
