The Way of Ways

Here are three names:

Newton       Descartes       Cantor

And here are three ways of having some (more than one, less than all) of those names:

Newton       Descartes

                   Descartes       Cantor

Newton                              Cantor

I am using the word ways with a relatively precise meaning:

Two ways of having some of some things are different ways in this precise sense if and only if one of those ways is a way of having something that the other way is not a way of having.

Note that even if no one had ever thought of having some of those particular names, there would still have been those three names, and each of those pairs of names would still have been some of those three names, so there would still have been those three ways of having some of them.

And because there are those three ways, there are, similarly, three ways of having some of those three ways.

And there are, similarly, three ways of having some of those ways.

And so on endlessly.

There are, in short, infinitely many ways of that kind. And there are far more ways of having some of those ways. And far more ways of having some of those ways. And so on endlessly.

And because there are all of those ways, there are far more ways of having some of those ways. And far more ways of having some of them. And so on endlessly.

And so forth, endlessly.

And because there are all those ways of having some of some things (starting with those three names), there are also, for every way of having some of them, those ways. And so on endlessly. And so on and so forth:

For each of these ways of having some of some things (starting with those three ways of having some of those three names), there is that way because there are all of those things.

Does it follow that there are all the ways of that kind?

It does seem to; although if there are all of them, then there would also be every way of having some of them, because for each way of having some of them, the ways that that way would be a way of having would be some of the ways of that kind, and there would be all of them. Indeed, there would be more of those ways of having some of the ways of that kind than there would be ways of that kind.

Even though those ways of having some of the ways of that kind would all have fallen under the scope of that "and so on and so forth" and would therefore have been ways of that kind.

That contradiction means that it is logically impossible for there to be all of those ways.

It did seem to follow that there would be all of those ways, though. And that is a logical (or ontological) problem, not a mathematical (or formal-ontological) problem, even though it is based on Cantor's mathematical paradox. And because this problem already has a theistic solution that is perfectly logical (see FREEDOM for the details of that solution), it is a problem for rational atheism:

In the absence of an atheistic solution that is perfectly logical, not just formal-logical, that theistic solution amounts to a logical refutation of atheism.

It amounts to a proof (an ontological proof) that there is a creator of all things whose view of all things determines and defines them and whose opinion of them is therefore the only opinion that really matters, at the end of the day.

Freedom

is the freedom to say that 2 + 2

is no more nor less than the number of ones in (1 + 1) + (1 + 1)

How could that be what freedom is?

Who would deny that that is what 2 + 2 is?

And how would their denying it get in the way of our being free?

Surprisingly, it is the experts on numbers who deny it.

A hundred years ago, academic mathematicians redefined the terminology of arithmetic in order to lose an arithmetical puzzle in that translation, because although the puzzling arithmetic does make sense if there is a God like the Trinity who geometrizes continually (see below for the details), academic mathematicians could find no other way of making sense of that arithmetic, and academia was becoming increasingly atheistic in the twentieth century, especially in subjects that used a lot of mathematics (the sciences had started to get atheistic in the second half of the nineteenth century because of an agnostic biologist, Charles Darwin).

Now, academia should not have become so atheistic, because insofar as that arithmetic only makes sense if there is a God, it proves that there is a God (and that arithmetic had been discovered in the second half of the nineteenth century by a Lutheran mathematician, Georg Cantor, who thought that God had revealed it to him).

However, that proof was hidden by those mathematical redefinitions, and by related redefinitions of words like proof, logic and truth, because of a related logical puzzle discovered by an atheist aristocrat, Bertrand Russell, at the start of the twentieth century. Still, maybe that proof will not remain hidden for another hundred years (God does seem to get better results on longer timescales). In any case, the truth will set you free.

For the details of the proof, click on this link: Freedom

That link opens an eight-thousand-word Google Document called "Freedom" in a new window.

Vanishing

(a simple puzzle)

Suppose that an object accelerates in a straight line by repeatedly doubling its speed, with each doubling taking half the time of the previous doubling. If this object does not collide with anything, it will soon approach the speed of light. What if there was no light speed limit though, and no risk of collisions because the space that it was in was otherwise empty?

Well, with only one object in that space, there would be no motion relative to any other object. So if space is a mere absence of stuff, then it would be as if that object was not moving at all (despite those accelerations, which might be felt by that object).

What if we put another object into this otherwise empty space? Let us call the two objects in this otherwise empty space X and Y.

X and Y start out together, and then X travels one mile from Y in one hour (at an average speed of one mile per hour), another mile in half an hour (at an average speed of two miles per hour), another in a quarter of an hour (at 4 mph), another in an eighth of an hour (at 8 mph), and so on, until after one hour plus half an hour plus a quarter of an hour plus an eighth of an hour and so on—two hours in total—X will have travelled further from Y than any finite number of miles.

Let us suppose that this simple space goes on and on in all directions without end. Note that space being infinite in that sense does not mean that any part of it is further than any finite distance from any other part. It does not mean that there are parts of it that are actually at spatial infinity. So let us suppose that this simple space goes on and on endlessly but does not have parts at spatial infinity.

For both X and Y, the other object seems to be going to spatial infinity and then vanishing (there being no place that it could be without teleporting).

Would X and Y both vanish (or teleport) after two hours? But why should Y vanish (or teleport) because of the accelerations of X at such huge distances from Y? I suppose that if X vanished (or teleported) because of its unbounded accelerations, then Y would not have to vanish (or teleport). But the vanishing (or teleporting) of X for that reason is problematic: would the single object in the original scenario vanish because of its accelerations? It makes some intuitive sense for it to disintegrate or explode (or even teleport) because of its unbounded accelerations, but why would it vanish because of them? After all, it would not be vanishing at spatial infinity (it would not be moving at all).

Two Possible Solutions

Perhaps it makes more sense to suppose that such accelerations would have had to have been impossible, even in such a simple space. Although there are other possibilities:

Maybe X does not vanish at spatial infinity because it gets to spatial infinity. Such places could exist if, for example, unit volumes of space actually contain 1/0 points (as outlined in my 2005 paper).

Of course, it may well be more plausible that something like the light speed limit is a metaphysical necessity, even for such simple spaces. If philosophers interested in physics knew more about the nature of that metaphysical necessity, would that help them to explain the light speed limit that actual spacetime certainly seems to have? Presumably it would, but knowing more about such a necessity would presumably involve finding out more about such spaces as those described in my 2005, and there is little interest in such spaces. It is one thing for physicists to discover dark energy and matter given that there is a light speed limit, even though that is a bit like discovering epicycles given that the earth does not move (which it certainly does not seem to do). It is another thing for philosophers interested in physics to have little interest in the possible reasons for there being a light speed limit. That is

a more puzzling problem.

On the Hiddenness of God

I recently emailed my book, The Hiddenness of God, to hundreds of academic mathematicians, to see whether or not mathematicians would be interested in the proof buried beneath the foundations of their subject, and I have had some replies already. The following conversation has been edited, but it is fairly typical, in case you were wondering (as I was) what mathematicians would think of my proof.

Mathematician: Russell's paradox (and Epimenides' before him) demonstrates simply that the concept of "truth value" that many logicians had assumed to be well-defined on all statements, and which works well most of the time, must in fact have a few limitations. When we talk about truth values too loosely, plain English hides the fact that we're discussing a function from the class of propositions to the set {T,F} that may not in fact be wholly defined. It's no more mysterious than the discovery that division by 0 can't be defined except by giving up several arithmetic properties that are otherwise unproblematic. Russell simply shows a similar restriction for truth values of self-referential statements. This is well-understood.

And Cantor's theorem isn't even a paradox: it just shows that if we define an ordering by "size" on infinite sets, then the rationals and the reals are in different size classes - and why shouldn't they be? Our ability to "comprehend" either is ill-defined (this is where plain English lets us down): we do not know everything even about large finite numbers (which digit appears most often in 9^(9^(9^(9^(9^9))))?) and we know a very great deal about the real numbers, more numerous than the natural numbers though they are.

While Russell's paradox did do that, the heap paradox and the liar paradox had done it thousands of years earlier. And while Cantor's theorem is indeed not a paradox, it exists within axiomatic set theory. Cantor's paradox arises for the numbers that Cantor was working with, which were essentially the same as the numbers that we learn about at school. There is an obvious and unambiguous meaning to the word "two": two is the number of things in any collection that has as many things in it as the sum 1 + 1 has units in it.

Mathematician: I think the heap paradox is most easily interpreted as showing the axiom that one grain less than a heap is still a heap to be inconsistent. Heapiness is problematic in other ways as well. If we base our definition on general opinion, we more or less have to test it by asking an observer "is this a heap?" and the answer may depend on the observer. If we don't appeal to opinion, there's no reason not to define a heap as a thousand grains or more of sand, or sand grains piled at least five deep.

And while what you said is true for "two" there are more real numbers (in the usual sense) than there are definitions in finite strings of characters... and this happens precisely at the spot we're interested in.

Plain English is good enough for the definition of "two," though; and similarly, for an arbitrary counting number (even though most counting numbers are too big for us to imagine anything about them other than that they are counting numbers). And Cantor's paradox arises for arbitrary subcollections of subcollections of [...] subcollections of counting numbers. The real numbers are complicated (and Richard's paradox is interesting) but irrelevant to Cantor's paradox. As for the answer to "is this a heap?" I think that it can depend on the observer, and that that is one of the reasons why some piles of sand are only heaps as much as they are not heaps. Insofar as they are heaps, removing a single grain of sand would make a negligible difference to that. And for such a pile, "that pile is a heap" would be true only as much as it was not true. And similarly, the liar paradox shows that there are self-referential statements that are true only as much as they are not true. So, Russell's paradox is more like the liar paradox (and the heap paradox) than Cantor's paradox.

Mathematician: I think the heap paradox is somewhat different in that it can be dealt with by saying that "well, it seems that we need to sharpen our definition of a heap. A heap will be any collection of sand numbering more than ten grains, stable, and at least a quarter as tall as it is high." That's roughly what Cantor did with infinities... a fairly small patch on existing math. The first was a paradox, and not the second, only because people had more preconceptions about heaps. Cantor's result is more a proof by contradiction, eliminating a wrong turning in an exploration of new territory. If Eubulides of Miletus had been researching novel ways to store sand (insight - we don't need a bucket!) he might have used the sorites paradox similarly. The liar paradox can't really be explained away by inventing a better liar: it needs the concept of truth that underlies all philosophy to be redefined. Similarly, Russell's paradox involved a complete revamping of basic set theory.

I don't think that the heap paradox can be dealt with by saying that we need to sharpen the definition of "heap" because similar paradoxes occur with almost all of our words (as Russell observed) and because our words simply have the meanings that they have: if we redefine what "truth" means, then we are no longer talking about the truth of our words. I suppose that Cantor's paradox is the proof by contradiction that you think it is if there is no God, but is the proof by contradiction that I think it is (a proof that there is a God) if we should not redefine what "truth" means in order to avoid an inconvenient proof.

Mathematician: It's true that if we take "Cantor's paradox" as a standalone result, rather than as the obvious (in retrospect) conclusion of his construction of sets of demonstrably different cardinality, it looks more like Russell's paradox. That's not the angle I'm used to seeing it from, but I think I see your point. Nonetheless, in Cantor's case we don't have to redefine "truth", we merely have to redefine "set" so that some things we would have naively called sets are "classes" with a smaller set of permitted construction rules. As for the relevance to God: I am not a believer, but quite happy to argue hypotheticals. I agree with Aquinas that any god that exists must be bound by the laws of logic. These are the same laws of logic that bind us: and I see no reason why using a definition of "set" that Cantor showed to be inconsistent could be a divine attribute, let alone why we should want it to be so. Aquinas says in effect that, regarding logic, what's good enough for Cantor (if Cantor is right) is good enough for God. You don't get around Cantor by supposing "theological unions" of sets that somehow differ from those of set theory (or, if you do, you must explain their properties fully and equiconsistently with ZFC or some other well-defined system).

I agree that we should be bound by the laws of logic, and I take that to mean that we cannot just make those laws up. And I am certainly not trying to get around Cantor by supposing theological unions (whatever they are). I am questioning his assumption that mathematical collections must exist timelessly. Cantor chose to believe in the existence of collections that were inconsistent, rather than give up that assumption! Mathematicians can of course use any definition of “set” and “class” that they like, but there is still the paradoxical behaviour of mathematical collections (in the logical sense) to explain. Cantor’s paradox showed that his conception of set was inconsistent, but his conception included the assumption that mathematical collections exist (insofar as such things can be said to exist) timelessly. Incidentally, although Russell found his paradox while he was thinking about Cantor’s paradox, I don’t think that Cantor’s paradox is like Russell’s paradox.

Mathematician: My view is that the word "exist" is not used in mathematics in the sense that Mount Everest is and Alma Cogan isn’t (as the guy on the Monty Python record put it). It's an axiomatically-defined predicate in mathematical theories and metatheories (parallel lines exist in the Euclidean plane, they do not exist in the projective plane). From this viewpoint, I don't see time/timelessness as having anything to do with mathematical existence (I suppose one could take a time-dependent Platonist view where pi really was three in Old Testament times, but that is not how I see it).

For most mathematicians nowadays, mathematical existence is indeed existence within an axiomatic structure, and for such structures it is consistency that matters. And within set theory, there is only Cantor’s theorem. But for numbers like the counting numbers and the number of all the counting numbers, and so on, it is logic that matters: such numbers are essentially properties of logically possible collections (you and I are two people, and we would have been two possible people had we never existed, and the properties of that “two” are logically prior to any axiomatic model of them). And if it is logically possible for there to be a God, then there are all the numbers (in that sense) that give rise to Cantor’s paradox. That is how I have been able to show that if it is logically possible for there to be a God then there is a God, because it is only if there is a God that such numbers could possibly be getting more numerous (and it is only in the last hundred years that mathematicians would have denied that such numbers were part of mathematics).

Mathematician: The statement that "numbers are getting more numerous" is, if not downright false, highly ambiguous. Our mathematical knowledge may encompass more numbers, but a given axiom system implies the same numbers yesterday, today, and forever, even if nobody alive at some time understands that. Furthermore I hold, with (for instance) Aquinas, that it is a logical necessity that no deity could change; so, claiming that the creation of new numbers within a fixed axiom system implies the existence of a god is true only ex falsi quodlibet. Apart from that major objection, if your argument did prove the existence of some entity X, I think (again, hypothetically) that it would fall far short of showing that this X was what was generally called "a god," let alone a specific faith's God.

The numbers in “numbers are getting more numerous” do not exist within any axiom system, but as a consequence of there being numbers of things in the world (such as us two). Axiomatic models of them are timeless, but they themselves are properties of logically possible collections of things, so it is a matter of objective fact whether they are timeless or not. And while we naturally assume that they (and logical possibilities generally) are timeless, it is conceivable that they (and some other logical possibilities) are not timeless if there is a God who is not timeless. As for your belief that if there was a God then that God would have to be above and beyond time and change, I suppose that you have a good reason for believing that, but as I do not know what that reason is, I cannot say why it is not a valid reason (and similarly for your reason for believing that X could not be called a God, unless it is the same reason). I have thought a lot about the reasons that are in the literature, and none of them are valid when it comes to the God that Cantor’s paradox shows exists (which did not surprise me because a lot of the religious believers who take God to be above and beyond time and change would also say that He is above and beyond our logical abilities).

Mathematician: You would seem to be saying that there's an argument showing, on the basis of some axiom system, that some number (call it Stigma) exists... and that at some time in the past the same argument was not valid, or was valid but did not show that Stigma existed. A fun science-fiction idea, but in reality if we pick at it, expanding the argument out to a long but finite list of axiomatic steps and going through it a step at a time, there's a step that somehow didn't work then and does now. But that step is supposedly an instance of an axiom, so the axiom set has changed. Gods whose powers vary in time (depending on who's stolen whose hammer today) are more at home in comic books than in philosophical arguments; when I said "god" I meant the sort of god that modern philosophy usually considers, whose view of the universe is in some sense ultimate and synonymous with reality. If the power of such a god were greater today than yesterday, it would have to have been less than it might have been yesterday. Which, as Spinoza would have said, is absurd.

I too meant the God whose view of the universe is the universe. And I agree that the power of such a God cannot increase, or decrease. However, the knowledge of such a creator would increase as a matter of logical necessity whenever any particular thing was created (as I show in the first “chapter” of my first email). As for your interpretation of what I was saying in terms of an axiom system, the existence of the most basic numbers (1, 2, 3 etc.) does not have to be existence within any axiomatic system, even if there is a God. The existence of such numbers could be the logical possibility of there being collections of that many things (which is why my argument is a logical argument based on Cantor’s original paradox, which he discovered before mathematicians and philosophers axiomatized numbers and collections) [...]

📖The Hiddenness of God

As the twentieth century began, the atheist philosopher and mathematician Bertrand Russell was thinking about some puzzling arithmetic, which he correctly took to be a logical puzzle. And as he was thinking about that puzzle, he found another. Now, his answer to both puzzles was a scientific theory of logic—a mathematical model of logic—and since then, logicians have done a lot of mathematical modelling. So, logic looks very scientific nowadays. But if scientists, by thinking logically, reached an outlandish conclusion, would they think that something was wrong with logic? Or is science more logical than that?

Does that puzzling arithmetic actually amount to a scientific proof of something scientifically revolutionary?

That possibility is outlined in chapter 1 of The Hiddenness of God. The puzzle that Russell found is of a kind with two ancient puzzles—the heap paradox and the liar paradox—so chapter 1 begins with them, and chapter 2 shows why they give us no good reason to doubt the reliability of logical thinking. We should therefore think very logically about that puzzling arithmetic, which chapter 3 describes in relatively plain English, to bring out the underlying logic. Chapter 4 shows how that logical puzzle makes sense if—and in all likelihood, only if—there is a creator of all things who is above and beyond the concept of a thing but not completely above and beyond time and change.

💥Cantoring away from being Russelled

Twenty-five years ago, as I was getting my masters in mathematics, I was surprised to find an unsolved puzzle about infinity at the heart of modern mathematics. Some of my first thoughts were published in philosophy journals, so I went on to do a masters in philosophy. I got it with distinction, and by thinking laterally as well as logically I found the solution and decided to write it up as a book for a general reader with no background in philosophy, logic or mathematics. Five years later, it is down to 25,000 words.

In the book (which was 28,000 words in July, and which I will re-post when I get it below 10,000 words), various logical puzzles are described and solved because the only perfectly logical solution to one of those puzzles—the puzzle about infinity—is only a logical possibility if there is a logical kind of God. In short, my book amounts to a perfectly logical proof that there is such a God.

      A hundred years ago, the mathematical puzzle was proving to be so puzzling that mathematicians translated the whole of mathematics into a new "language" (akin to a programming language) in order to lose it in that translation. And that sea-change to academic mathematics trickled down to school mathematics in the form of the new math. Which you may have heard of, because it was quite controversial fifty years ago. The mathematicians’ responses were logical enough, but this puzzle is essentially a logical puzzle. And philosophers like Bertrand Russell responded to it by modernizing logic.

      For a hundred years, scientific philosophers have been treating logical thinking as though it was a kind of computing, as something that might be done better on a computer. By explaining these logical puzzles properly, my book will revitalize philosophy. My book may also help to defuse America’s "culture war" by making logic more interesting to religious people while simultaneously showing that atheism is not really very scientific. Indeed, it is not very progressive: how could people growing up in a world with profound problems possibly acquire enough wisdom to change their world for the better? On a more mundane note, scientific research will progress in directions that are more realistic as a result of my book, so my book could herald the next scientific revolution. And of course, a lot of people will simply find it helpful to know that there is a reasonable sort of God.

📚Current version of my book

This links to a 28,000-word google-doc

The God No One Wanted

(That is the new title of my book :-)

1. The Lie of the Land
introduction | expectations | descriptions

2. The Way of Things
Cantor’s paradox | set theory | the proofs

3. Proof of Probability
too many things | the shape of time | God

4. Reasonable Doubts
just bad math | deductions | explanations

5. Doubting Reason
the final straw | Russell’s paradox | truth

Authorial Authority

Authorial Authority

(two and a half thousand words) will be
section 2 of chapter 4 of my book:
The Way of Things

Truth

Truth

(three thousand words) will be
section 3 of chapter 5 of my book:
The Way of Things

Russell's Paradoxes

Russell's Paradoxes

(two and a half thousand words) will be
section 2 of chapter 5 of my book:
The Way of Things

Heaps

Heaps

(two and a half thousand words) will be
section 1 of chapter 5 of my book:
The Way of Things

Explanations

Explanations

(five and a half thousand words) will be
section 4 of chapter 2 of my book:
The Way of Things

Proofs

Proofs

(five and a half thousand words) will be
section 3 of chapter 2 of my book:
The Way of Things

Low Expectations

Low Expectations
(five and a half thousand words) will be
section 2 of chapter 1 of my book:
The Way of Things

The Lie of the Land

The Lie of the Land

(two thousand words) will be
section 1 of chapter 1 of my book:
The Way of Things

Progress on "The Way of Things"

My book has been getting bigger and bigger over the past year (it is now over a hundred thousand words) but it seems ready to tidy up, so I will be posting the tidied up sections one by one and linking each post to the section titles in last July's The Way of Things, which can serve as a contents page.

A true contradiction?

(a) the maths

Since adding zero to any amount does not change it, we can keep adding zeroes forever and it will make no difference: such additions always amount to adding zero.

We might write that as 0 = 0 + 0 + 0 + 0 + 0 + …, which can be spread out like this:

       0      =                             0                            +                             0                           +             . . .

Each 0 on the right-hand side can be replaced by 1 – 1, to give:

       0      =             (1            –             1)            +             (1            –             1)            +             . . .

In the next equation, the brackets have been removed.

       0      =             1              –             1              +             1              –             1            +             . . .

In the next equation, brackets have been put back in, in different places.

       0      =             1              +             (–1         +             1)            +             (–1         +             . . .

We now replace each (–1 + 1) with 0.

       0      =             1              +                             0                              +                         0              . . .

All those zeroes on the right-hand side add up to zero, of course. But that means that:

       0      =             1

Clearly 0 = 1 is false. So, where did we go wrong? Well, since the last equation was false, the equation above it must also have been false (the only difference between those two equations is the first equation, which was clearly true). And the next one, going upwards, 0 = 1 + (–1 + 1) + (–1 + 1) + ..., must have been false too, as each of those “(–1 + 1)” does equal zero.

Going the other way, from the first equation, 0 = 0 + 0 + ..., which was clearly true, the next equation, 0 = (1 – 1) + (1 – 1) + ..., is similarly true, because each of those “(1 – 1)” is zero.

In between those two equations, one false and one true, we have the infinite sum 1 – 1 + 1 – 1 + …, which was originally described by the Italian theologian and mathematician Guido Grandi (1671–1742).

Grandi was interested in the calculus (as described by Leibniz). And in the calculus, an infinite sum is equal to the limit of the initial finite sums as their length tends to infinity. Grandi’s infinite sum 1 – 1 + 1 – 1 + ... has initial sums that alternate between 1 and 0 = 1 – 1 endlessly (the next are 1 = 1 – 1 + 1 and 0 = 1 – 1 + 1 – 1). Since the initial sums tend to no limit, Grandi’s infinite sum is not given any value by the calculus.

By removing the brackets, we moved from an infinite sum of zeroes, which is equal to zero, to Grandi’s infinite sum, which has no value. Adding brackets differently then took us from Grandi’s infinite sum to a sum that is one plus an infinite number of zeroes, which is equal to one.

(b) the physics

You may be familiar with the idea of a particle/antiparticle pair appearing out of the vacuum. Such pairs give rise to Hawking radiation from a black hole, but all we need to know here is that such pairs can, in theory, appear from the background fields of the vacuum. Once formed, the particle and antiparticle are moving away from their point of origin, so we might picture them moving downwards, like this: /\ (near a black hole, one of them might be swallowed by the black hole, while the other flies away from the black hole, giving rise to Hawking radiation).

Space does not seem to be infinite, but an infinite space is a physical possibility. And in such a space, an endless line of such particles/antiparticle pairs is a possibility, for all that it is highly unlikely. We might picture them like this: /\/\/\/\/\... (the zig-zag continues to spatial infinity).

The top of that zig-zag pictures a line of particle/antiparticle pairs appearing, which might be modelled mathematically by modelling each particle as +1 and each antiparticle as –1. We then get this equation:

0 = (1 – 1) + (1 – 1) + (1 – 1) + (1 – 1) + (1 – 1) + ...

Each (1 – 1) represents a particle/antiparticle pair appearing.

They move downwards in such a way that each antiparticle collides with the particle from the pair to the right, so that they are both annihilated. The particle at the extreme left of the zig-zag is not annihilated. The bottom of the zig-zag therefore pictures events that are modelled rather well by this equation:

1 = 1 + (–1 + 1) + (–1 + 1) + (–1 + 1) + (–1 + 1) + (–1 + ...

Each (–1 + 1) corresponds to an antiparticle and a particle annihilating each other.

In between those two equations, there is no mathematical sum, neither 0 nor 1. That corresponds to infinitely many particles and antiparticles just being there, in between their creation and their almost total annihilation. The highly improbable, but physically possible, appearance of this particle from an infinite vacuum is therefore so well-modelled by 0 = 1 – 1 + 1 – 1 + ... = 1, that it is essentially an instance of it. It is in a very similar way that Jack and Jill being a couple is an instance of 1 + 1 = 2.

Such equations as 1 + 1 = 2 only exist because they are such good descriptions of any collection of two things. It is the physical instantiation that ultimately justifies the mathematical equation. And of course, to say of what is, that it is, is to say something that is true. Which raises the following question.

(c) the questions

Could 0 = 1 – 1 + 1 – 1 + ... = 1 be a true contradiction?

And in order to think about that question logically, should we use paraconsistent logic?

(d) my answers

Although a contradiction can be used as a description that is such a good description, it should count as a true description (as when we say that something is and isn’t a certain way, meaning that it is that way in one sense but not in another, or that it is that way about as much as it is not), that does not mean that the contradiction is true. Not too dissimilarly, there are two ways in which 1 + 1 = 2 is true. It is true as a description of Jack and Jill, and it is, in a different way, true by definition (of 2). And it is, in any case, not at all contradictory for there to be no particle and then, at a later time, one particle.

Why would anyone think that a mathematical model of reasoning that is not a very good model of logical reasoning (because if something is not the case, then it cannot also be the case: it not being the case means that it cannot) would help them to think logically?

The Way of Things

1. Introduction

    the lie of the land | low expectations

2. The Way of Things

    infinities | sets | proofs | explanations

3. Extraordinary Evidence

    many things | impossibly many things

4. A God Hypothesis

    the shape of time | authorial authority

5. Exceptional Logic

    heaps | Russell's paradoxes | truth

Logical Reference

Vienna, 1893, a countess glances at a robin and decides to paint it. A few days later, her terrible painting of a robin is put up in one of the many corridors in her palace, where it remains for half a century. The countess had not signed her painting, with anything other than the year, and so when her painting was found by the Nazis, they thought that it must be valuable because of where it was. These Nazis were from the Ruhr, so they took the painting to be a bad painting of a fat goldfinch. And because they could see that it would make Hitler's paintings look relatively good, they sent it to Berlin. In Berlin, it was catalogued as Der Fette Stieglitz and put with all the other paintings that the Nazis thought were terrible. After the war, it was taken to Moscow, where it remained for half a century until it was sold to an American, who thought it a fine example of early modern art. He hung it in his dining room.

New York, dinnertime, the owner of the painting points to it and says “that bird was very well fed,” starting a conversation that slowly moves on to who the unknown artist might have been a student of. The owner of the painting and the other diners all assumed that “that bird” referred to an imaginary goldfinch dreamt up by some sadly forgotten genius. But we know that it referred to a European robin, do we not? After all, imagine that we are looking through a warped and dirty window at a robin in bad light: if I thought that it was a fat goldfinch, and I pointed to it and said “that bird is fat,” would I be wrong? Maybe not, but I would certainly be talking about a robin, and it might not be a fat robin. And if we had been looking at a very bad photograph of a robin, or at a mediocre painting of a robin, or even at a terrible painting that we did not understand, what difference would that make?