Metaphysics geek dream week

Warning: Major geeking out ahead (metaphysics and sci-fi!!!). Also, MAJOR HEROES SPOILERS from the 4/27/09 episode.

Last night's Heroes totally one-upped last Friday's episode of Dollhouse!

In the April 24 episode of Dollhouse, a murdered Dollhouse client named Margaret Bashford was temporarily resurrected when her mind (which had been copied a few weeks prior to her death) was downloaded into Echo's body. The resurrection was only temporary because at the end of the episode Echo/Margaret's mind was wiped. Then in the April 27 episode of Heroes, Nathan Petrelli, who had just had his throat slit by Sylar, was resurrected when psychic Matt Parkman made Sylar believe that he (Sylar) was Nathan; Sylar's power to know the complete history of any object (or person, I guess) that he touches allowed him to fill in his memory. Heroes went even further than Dollhouse, though, because Sylar's power to shapeshift allowed him to look exactly like Nathan.

We definitely have a theme going on here. Making copies of people's brains to grant them life after death. This is a fascinating plot device because it raises fundamental questions of identity. Is Margaret Bashford still alive? She knows everything that Margaret knew (up until three weeks before her death), thinks like Margaret thinks, and believes she is Margaret, but she is in Echo's body. And who is the man left standing at the end of the Heroes episode? He thinks he is Nathan, and he looks like Nathan, but is he Sylar? The tiny teaser at the end of the episode showed Nathan obsessing over a clock (something very Sylar, if I can turn him into an adjective), hinting that a bit of Sylar remains underneath. But if the transformation had been complete (without any remaining vestiges of Sylar), would he then actually be Nathan Petrelli?

I love thinking about these kinds of dilemmas. Even though I was an engineering major, I managed to fit two philosophy courses in metaphysics into my schedule. And identity was always one of my favorite topics, due in part perhaps to its frequently sci-fi nature. Some people can't stand discussing the issue: "What does it matter? We can't really scan in brains and download them into other people! This is pointless!" But these theoritical scenarios raise questions of how we define ourselves. Am I a certain cluster of molecules? Am I this body, which is allowed small, gradual changes? Or am I this specific set of memories and thoughts and feelings and natural disposition? What makes me me? To the uninitiated, I will attempt an introduction to these sorts of dilemmas (to those who have studied this before, I don't think I present anything new).

One simple explanation of one's identity is one's body. This independent form that looks like me and has all these parts exactly like my parts is me. But this is not a satisfactory explanation by any means. After all, I do not look very much like how I looked when I was three years old. My body may not even have any of the same molecules that it had when I was three. Cells die and I eat food and make new cells. If the completely same body is required for a person to be me, then we are constantly changing identities as we shed cells and make new ones. One could say, "Well, I'm not the same person that I was when I was three," but on the level of identity that I am talking about, that is absurd. If we are constantly changing identities, then I haven't met any of the people in my family, and they haven't met me either. The friends I grew up with are gone. I am a new person, I did not graduate from college, and thus my grad school application was a lie, but I can't be punished for it because I wasn't the one who submitted it. Okay, so the completely same body must not be a requirement for identity. We must allow a gradual change in body in the maintenance of identity. My body is not completely different moment to moment, so as long as it proceeds to change bit by bit, I will still be me.

Another definition of identity is my brain. Not my physical brain, since that is a part of my body, but my memories, tendencies, way of thinking, etc., which I will refer to collectively as my "psychology". This also changes constantly but, like with the body, it is a gradual change; the same defense of this definition of identity may be used.

So which am I, the body or the psychology? Are both required, or just one? Which one is more important? Consider death. P1 is alive at t1, but dies at t2. The psychology is gone, but the body remains (at first... though unless cremated it will continue to change gradually). The neighbor hears the gunshot and comes in to find a body, P2, dead on the floor. Is P2 the same entity as P1 (does P1=P2)? To those who say no, consider a case of sudden brain death. The body P2 is still alive, but the psychology is totally gone. In this case, does P2=P1? If P2 is not P1, then who is he?

Now, what if P1 knew that he was going to go brain dead at t2, so at t2 he arranged to have his entire psychology scanned into another body, P3. The plan works, so now we're left with P2, a brain-dead empty shell, and P3, who in spite of a new body feels quite like his old P1 self. Which of these is P1? The body P2, which is molecularly the same as P1, or P3, whose psychology is the same? They can't both be P1; if P2=P1, and P3=P1, then P3=P2, which is definitely not true (the brain-dead person has neither body nor psychology in common with P3; they are not the same person). So which is it? Consider the reactions of the family members. Assuming they get over the shock of having their loved one talking out of the body of P3, they would probably embrace P3, who knows them and loves them, and leave the brain-dead P2. This is similar to the Margaret Bashford case, except that in her case P2 is actually dead, not just brain dead, and P3's psychology is a continuation not of P1, but of a P0 who had her brain scanned three weeks before her death at t2. Does this make a difference in the question of identity? Does the body of P3 matter? If P3's body once belonged to a different person, does that make us less likely to accept that P3=P1 than if the body were a synthetic Cylon skin job type of construct (which looks like a human). If the body of P3 looked exactly the same as the body of P1, would that help confirm that P1=P3? This is similar to the Sylar/Nathan case.

Are you still with me, or have you ready to haul me to the loony bin? I'm going to switch gears slightly to one of my favorite examples: the Star Trek transporter. Now, I am not entirely certain of how transporters are supposed to work in Star Trek; I am totally psyched about the upcoming movie, but I am not a Trekker. However, this is a thought experiment, so whether or not this explanation is true to the Star Trek world doesn't matter.

Captain Kirk steps onto the transporter and says, "Beam me down, Scotty." Scotty presses the button, and the transporter scans in all the information that is Captain Kirk, vaporizes his body on the ship, then reassembles Kirk on the planet using the molecules on the planet into exactly the same configuration that Kirk was in on the ship. Kirk down on the planet brushes himself off and commences to explore the planet. Is the Kirk on the planet the same person as Kirk on the spaceship? The people in the Star Trek universe certainly believe so. The other option is that Kirk died in the vaporization, and this man on the planet is an imposter who has no right to the title of "captain". In the world of Star Trek, transportation is not murder, but a convenient way to get from here to there. They believe that K2, Kirk on the planet = K1, Kirk on the ship.

Now, let's say that the transporter is not working properly. K1 steps onto the transporter and says "Beam me down, Scotty," and the transporter scans him in and reassembles K2 down on the planet as in the previous case. The only problem is, the vaporization didn't work, so now we have K3 still standing in the transporter saying, "Scotty, what went wrong? Why am I not on the planet?" while K2 is happily exploring the planet without knowing that anything went wrong. It is clear that K2 does not equal K3, since one is on the planet and the other on the ship, but then which one is the same person as K1? In the previous example, we, and the denizens of the Star Trek universe, had decided that K2 was the same person as K1, but now it is hard to imagine that K3 is not K1. K3, after all, has the advantage of being continuous in both psychology and body to K1. But K2 has the advantage of intention: K2 is the one who is supposed to exist; K3 is a mistake. Imagine the epic showdown between Kirk2 and Kirk3: It's a fight to the death, winner takes all!!!

It is probably clear by now that I could go on and on about this topic. I hope you don't think I'm entirely insane. Hopefully you appreciate the relevance of this issue (no, it's not as immediately important as what you're going to eat for lunch today, but it still is a sort of fundamental question about our lives). And maybe you find it interesting and will now spend some time thinking through these questions and coming up with scenarios of your own. If that is the case, then welcome to my world.

There's a new episode of Fringe tonight. As a show about the fringe sciences, this scenario is right up their alley. I've got my fingers crossed...

Reflections on Watchmen

When I finished reading Watchmen this past weekend, I was so beside myself with a dizzying mix of intense emotions that I couldn't gather my thoughts together into anything nearing coherency. Hence the delay of this post.

It's been a long time since I've read anything so sharp, challenging, moving, or beautiful. I have to admit that when I first heard of Watchmen, I found it surprising that Time Magazine would put a graphic novel on its list of 100 Best Novels (all English language novels 1923-2006). I mean, this is the list that has To Kill a Mockingbird, Catch-22, Invisible Man, and all those other books you read in high school English class (as well as The Lord of the Rings and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe). A glorified comic book on a list with these greats? But now that I've read it, I see that it deserves its spot on the list.

I am a far cry from an avid comic book reader--I could count the number of comic books I've read on one hand (leaving the binary count-to-31 trick aside)--so while I cannot evaluate Watchmen's impact on the world of comics or compare its content and presentation to other prominent graphic novels, I can comment on my reaction to Watchmen as (like the average person) a genre outsider. Dave Gibbons' art was a perfect visual complement to Alan Moore's dialogue. Dialogue continuing over flashback panels, cuts back and forth between scenes, intertwining a fitting comic book throughout the novel, the use of motifs--I was struck by the artfulness of the presentation. Various characters provided striking insight in unexpected places. A section at the end of each installment provided newspaper or magazine clippings, personal invoices, chapters of an autobiography, and collections of other tidbits, which was a clever way of giving the reader a better understanding of the characters and the world in which they lived. And I loved the little details, such as the short quotes slipped in at the end of each chapter as relevant commentary on the events in the chapter. It all seemed to me to be everything that a graphic novel should be, a perfect display of the format--I cannot begin to imagine it as an unillustrated novel.

The story was incredibly powerful. It takes place in a world just like ours up to the point that a handful of people suddenly decided to put on costumes and fight crime (or promote it) as masked vigilantes. The other major event that threw this world in a different direction from our own was a scientific experiment accident that yielded an enormously powerful individual who can single-handedly end a war as well as develop new technologies at a super-human rate. In the present day (1985) of this world, masked heroes are illegal, forcing most into retirement. The murder of one of the masked heroes leads others to believe that there may be a mask killer hunting them down, but there is something much bigger being set into motion. Watchmen is a fascinating study of psychology and morality. What kinds of people become masked heroes? What do such people do when they retire? How do they think? What means can be justified in the pursuit of a noble cause? What is a person worth?

I wouldn't have thought I would describe the experience of reading a comic book with these words, but between the engaging, challenging story and its artful presentation, I found Watchmen to be breathtakingly beautiful.

The following are a couple of my reflections on specific issues in the story.
HERE BE SPOILERS until next set of asterisks
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Reflection 1: People as Miracles
Dr. Manhattan's ultimate reason for returning to Earth was his realization that every single human being is a miracle; considering the chances of our parents and their parents and each of their parents, etc. meeting and procreating, coupled with the probability of each particular sperm meeting each egg to produce each person in every step of the process, the chances of each of us being born seems infinitely small. I have considered this idea before, though not in the context presented in Watchmen. I am familiar with the concept as a part of a philosophy of religion argument, an argument that had led me to dismiss the notion that each person is a miracle. The argument goes something like this: What are the chances of the fundamental constants and properties of the universe being such that we can have a solar system like ours and a planet like ours with just the right characteristics to foster life? The chances are so infinitely small, how could it be an accident? It cannot. Therefore, there must be some greater power that created the universe in this specific way. The response (let's see if I can do a reasonable summary; trust me that the argument is at least somewhat convincing if explained well): This question is irrelevant since we would not be around to ask it if the universe hadn't worked out the way it did. Consider the infinitesimal chance of my birth. Should I assume that a higher power specifically orchestrated every single occurrence, every single sperm movement throughout history such that I would be born? Such an assumption would be extremely conceited. Had events played out differently someone else would merely be here to wonder at the tiny chance that she was born. Since it doesn't make sense to assume that a higher power guided events leading to my birth, it does not make sense simply to assume that such a power guided the creation of the universe. And so I had grudgingly concluded that, though it may seem that way at first, each person's existence is not a miracle. But Dr. Manhattan's conclusion made me think about the issue again--I did not like finding my reasoning challenged by one such as he--and I realized that the philosophical argument is not actually contrary to Dr. Manhattan's conclusion. The argument merely says that my birth is a miracle of chance, rather than one of active guidance. I suppose we can each be considered miracles, after all.

Reflection 2: If the end is right...
Ah, the big philosophical elephant in the room, or, shall we say, the giant octopus in the city: Can any means be justified by a great enough end? When all is said and done, it is difficult to find a fault in Adrian Veidt's goodness (which is not to say whether or not his actions were right, simply that it is hard to dismiss him as evil). He knows that he has done a horrible thing to countless people. Millions in New York killed in a moment of pain and terror by the monster he created, plus all the people who helped him create the monster murdered by him as well. But he remembers them, honors them, tries to picture their faces, feel the pain that he made them feel. And it was all to bring about world peace. How many more did he save by (apparently) unifying the world in peace when it was on the brink of nuclear war? In the end, only Rorschach could find fault in Adrian's actions. At least, while the others may have found fault in Veidt's actions, given what had already occurred only Rorschach was still willing to bring Adrian to justice for the wrongs he had committed. Viewing the morality of the issue in black and white, like the mask through which he views the world, Rorschach saw no room for compromise. Morality is not black and white, but that is not to say that Rorschach was wrong. I think readers are meant to take his side; he is the most popular character from the novel even though he is, well, a bit crazy. But is Veidt actually the crazy one? To hatch a plot like his and see it through... Is it insanity or clarity that allows him to drop the bomb on the chance that it will save more lives than it destroys? The position that Dan and Laurie find themselves holding is extremely complex. Had they been able to, they would have stopped Adrian's plan. But given that they failed to stop it, they are not willing to expose his crime and see him punished. This middle ground, this compromise, is maddening. Were they right? Was Veidt right? Was Rorschach right? These three possibilities are mutually exclusive. Ultimately, the issue is left open ended. "In the end? Nothing ends, Adrian. Nothing ever ends."

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END OF SPOILERS

It will be interesting to see how the movie turns out (assuming that it turns out at all). The casting choices were intriguing. Some of the age castings were odd; Matthew Goode, 30, was cast as Adrian Veidt, who is supposed to be 46. Of course, the story hops through time so much, I suppose they had to cast the actors and let makeup age them appropriately, knowing that they'd be the right age for at least one scene. I think the casting of relative unknowns was a good choice, and I look forward to seeing how the actors do. Still, I wonder if the movie can possibly do justice to the graphic novel. Alan Moore, in his typical disdain for Hollywood, has washed his hands of the movie, saying that there are elements of Watchmen that can only work in graphic novels, and no movie adaptation could--or should--attempt to do it justice. I already know the comic-book-series-within-a-comic-book-series will not be in the movie, though it will apparently be an extra on the DVD. How many other clever bits had to be cut? What can a movie version of Watchmen bring to the story that the graphic novel could not? Will it be enough to compensate for what is lost? The Lord of the Rings movie adaptations did what few adaptations are able to accomplish: while cutting out significant portions of the story, they were able to add enough to the experience to validate the transformation of the book to the film medium (e.g., I felt more sympathy for Gollum in the movie than I'd ever thought to feel while reading the book). Can the Watchmen movie do the same? Already a graphic novel, it is perhaps more difficult achieve this goal. A tall order, indeed.

The Watchmen graphic novel revolutionized the genre. Watchmen movie director Zack Snyder has said that the movie will similarly turn the comic book movie genre on its head; for people who think that comic book movies are unintelligent fluff, this movie will prove them wrong and validate the comic book movie as a respectable genre. The thing is, this summer's The Dark Knight was a phenomenal success with both critics and the general public. If Dark Knight already accomplished what Snyder hopes Watchmen will accomplish, this may not be the climate in which he wants to introduce his movie. I am a little concerned about this fact. Of course, Batman: The Dark Knight Returns was published immediately before Watchmen (February - June 1986 vs. Watchmen's September 1986 - October 1987) and was heaped with praise, and there was still room for Watchmen to be recognized for its greatness. Movies are a different business, but still, there's hope. Hope, assuming the movie is good. I will be one of the fans in line to see how it turns out.