Between Relative and Absolute Absoluteness: The Search for Reality
By
Mustafa Aminu
“As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain, and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality” Albert Einstein
Introduction
Lately, I have come across fascinating discussions regarding relativism and absolutism. It was quite interesting reading people’s views on what constitutes “reality (or absoluteness)” and how we can perceive it. The sum total of all the arguments strongly suggests that absolutism (or reality) is really ambiguous. It appears that two forms of “absoluteness” could be discerned: theoretical (or philosophical) absoluteness and the practical (or scientific) absoluteness. In my opinion, the main difference between the two is that theoretical absolutism is “absolutely absolute”, i.e. it remains unchanged regardless of new information or even our perception. Practical absolutism on the other hand is “relatively absolute”, and is thus dependent on both perception and increasing knowledge and observation. In the ensuing paragraphs, a largely scientific approach was followed to rationalize this apparent ambiguity.
Practical Absoluteness
Let me start with the practical absoluteness, which I believe is applicable in the scientific world. To buttress this point, recall the recent (around mid last year I think) claim/discovery by CERN (one of the world’s largest and most respected centres for scientific research, located near Geneva) to the effect that a sub-atomic particle (neutrino) travels at a speed greater than that of light. For more than a century, scientists have held as sacrosanct the belief that the speed of light (also known as “c”) was constant, and that no particle could ever attain, much less exceed it – regardless of the speed one is travelling with, light would appear to be travelling with “c”. This is a clear deviation from classical physics where the two speeds would be relative. Consider for instance, a man in a train travelling at a speed of 50 km/hr. Imagine the man rolls out a ball inside the train (and the ball eventually attains a uniform speed of 10 km/hr) in the direction of the train’s motion. Now, to the man in the train, the ball will be moving at 10 km/hr. To a stationary observer outside the train, however, the ball will appear to move at 60 km/hr. Both of them are right. The same analogy cannot be applied to light. If the man in the train had a light source, and he suddenly lit it (in the direction of the train’s motion), both he and the stationary observer outside the train would measure a constant and absolute speed of light “c” (regardless of the train’s speed). The implication of this is that nothing can ever win a race against light.
The belief is that, as a particle accelerates through space at considerably high speed, it also begins to accelerate in time; the clock ticks slower as a particle approaches the speed of light. As you might have imagined, time freezes if (or is it when?) a particle attains the speed of light. Now your guess is as good as mine if (or when) the speed of the particle is greater than “c”, a reversal of time occurs; which practically means time travel to the past. In physics, this phenomenon is conveniently described in the case of two hypothetical twins (also known as the “twin problem” or “twin paradox”): One of the twins stays at home (on earth), while the other travels into space in an extremely fast rocket with a speed close to that of light. When the travelling twin returns home (earth), he is considerably younger than his twin that stayed at home. The precise age difference between the two depends on the details of the trip. Taking this analogy further, if the travelling twin was travelling with the speed of a neutrino (assuming CERN was right), then he could be able to go back to the past (and perhaps to the time before he was born?). This, to me, sounds a bit absurd (although you can’t completely discard it), even though it is the practical implication of neutrinos having speed greater than “c”.
And that is one of the reasons some scientists are jittery about the discovery (I remember reading about a UK scientist who vowed to eat up his boxer shorts live on TV if (or when) the theory is proved right!): they simply have to provide explanations and make some fundamental corrections to already established scientific theories. A number of equations (including the famous E = mc2) were developed on this foundation. In fact, in developing the special theory of relativity, part of the equation (Lorentz equation for transforming space to time and vice versa) becomes complex (and hence practically meaningless) at any speed greater than “c”.
In my view, resentment towards a discovery (even if faulty) simply because it runs contrary to common sense or shakes the very foundation of scientific reasoning is a bit inapt. It’s doubtful if the father of the special theory of relativity (Einstein), whose ideas are at the centre of the controversy, would be flustered by this claim. Was it not him who said, “No amount of experimentation can ever prove me right; a single experiment can prove me wrong”? Perhaps, the CERN experiment is that “single experiment”, who knows? In fact he appeared to have foreseen such circumstance by stating that, “Creating a new theory is not like destroying an old barn and erecting a skyscraper in its place. It is rather like climbing a mountain, gaining new and wider views, discovering unexpected connections between our starting point and its rich environment. But the point from which we started out still exists and can be seen, although it appears smaller and forms a tiny part of our broad view gained by the mastery of the obstacles on our adventurous way up.”
It appears safe to conclude that in the scientific world (and by extension the physical world), most parameters that are considered constant or “absolute” are in fact mathematical conveniences imposed to rationally explain some phenomena. If the fundamental measurable parameters in science i.e. mass, time and length are agreed to be relative, then what else is really “absolutely absolute” in this material world? The “absolutes” in my opinion will keep on changing as a function of the information we have, for they are just expedient means of setting boundaries in the first place.
Theoretical Absoluteness
Let us now take a careful look at the second “absoluteness”: the theoretical or philosophical absolutism. Perhaps a very clear view of this could be inferred from the book (the last chapter I think) of that famous author, Harun Yahya, titled “Allah is known through reason”. I’m aware that some people are of the opinion that the author has a strange school of thought, but this particular view is completely scientific (with little or no theology) and I therefore assume that it could be acceptable by anyone as long as it passes some logical tests. Yahya started with a basic biological concept of perception of the “outside world” by our five senses: skin (touch), nose (smell), eye (sight), tongue (taste) and ear (hearing). Superficially, it would appear that we cannot perceive anything in the “outside world” without the aid of these five senses; this is in fact the view held by materialists – that the only things that really exist are those observable by our five senses. In other words, the materialists propose that only the object perceived by our senses is “absolutely absolute”.
However, scientists anywhere in the world would tell you that the stimuli perceived by each of our five senses are first converted to electrical signals and then transmitted to the brain (or spinal cord, if I recall well). The essential point here is that the brain receives and processes and interprets only the signals (electrical impulse) and not the original stimuli perceived. In other words, we are in contact only with the generated signals and never with the original stimuli. This has far reaching consequences as we shall see a little later. Going by this assertion, it appears that everything happens within the brain; the food we eat, our friends, the trees, the screen we are reading this piece from, etc are only “images” and not a direct contact with the “outside world”. Now, this is the catch, how can one be sure that the “image” processed by one’s brain is a good representation of the stimulus (coming from the “outside world”)? In fact, a fundamental question is: could one conclude with utmost certainty that the “outside world” really exists?
One might argue (like a friend actually did) that it is impossible to have an image without a real object (whatever that means). However, consider the dreams we have while asleep for instance, aren’t they mere illusions or “images” concocted by the brain, without a replica in the “real world”? Recently, I had a discussion with a physiologist who introduced me to the concept of phantom pain and phantom limb sensations. Both are sensations perceived by a person, concerning a limb or an organ that is not physically part of the body. They are normally felt by individuals who have had their limbs amputated and the brain simply refuses to acknowledge the loss of the limb. As a result, an individual keeps feeling sensations such as pain, touch, temperature, pressure, itchiness, etc in the missing limb. If the sensation persists and proves unbearable, a brain surgery could be performed to “deactivate” the part of the brain that sends that information. The primary point here is that there is sensation or “image” in the brain without a corresponding input stimulus, or even a stimulus receptor!
The foregoing logic is apparently fatal to the materialists’ thesis. The materialists have to make a fundamental assumption in order for their theory to be remotely relevant: that the image processed by the brain is a perfect depiction of the original stimulus (which might not be right as expounded in the previous paragraph). The mere fact that this is indeed an assumption makes their thesis only “relatively absolute” and not at all “absolutely absolute” (as they proclaim). Let us now look a little deeper into the intrigues surrounding the central processor where everything seems to take place – the brain. Medical doctors, scientists and even curious laymen could authoritatively describe what the physical structure of the brain looks like – a delicate grey mass of tissue that resides in the cranium. Now, even the staunchest materialist would admit that a chunk of grey tissue, alone, cannot possibly be conscious and possess emotions and the ability to discern between right and wrong. Just like the computer hardware without software, the brain would be a dummy without a software or programme attached to it. What then constitutes this “software” or “programme” that confers consciousness and possesses emotions? Intuitively, this “software” appears to be what we conveniently refer to as our “intrinsic selves”, or the soul, to give it a little of a theological touch.
As long as one is conscious, therefore, it seems just natural to believe that the existence of one’s “intrinsic self” or “soul” or “software/programme” is absolutely absolute. But this very “pre-conclusion” leaves us with a fundamental unanswered question: how did the “software/programme” came into being? Clearly, this is outside the realm of science and approaching the domain of metaphysics, and so at first I didn’t want to dabble into it, in deference to my earlier pledge to make this write-up largely scientific. But I suddenly realized that both science and metaphysics share in common, to some extent, the theory of “cause and effect” (recall Newton’s first law of motion). Applying this simple theory obviously implies “absolute absoluteness” in the existence of the software “maker” or “programmer” or more simply “the Creator”. In fact, it could be argued that following a strictly scientific approach, the existence of one’s “soul” and its “maker” (both of which we cannot directly perceive with our five senses) is even more factual than the existence of the “physical body/outside world” (which we are capable of perceiving directly with our senses).
Conclusion
Let me conclude by stating that science, although arguably one of the most developed and unprejudiced of the fields of knowledge, is still in complete awe of the universe and the phenomena surrounding it. The more science makes breakthroughs, the more it realizes that “absolutely absolute truths” lie somewhere beyond its scope. Yet science has made life reasonably comfortable by faithfully applying the “relatively absolute truths” at its disposal. Einstein posited that, “The human mind is not capable of grasping the Universe. We are like a little child entering a huge library. The walls are covered to the ceilings with books in many different tongues. The child knows that someone must have written these books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. But the child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books – a mysterious order which it does not comprehend, but only dimly suspects.” The little child is the human being (particularly the scientist); the huge library is the universe; the books are the various phenomena in the universe; and the writer of the books (and owner of the library) is of course the Creator of the universe.
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