Don't misunderstand me—I'm not religious.
Skimming through some of my essays, you might come to think otherwise because I mention a Creator or gods. But honestly, I'm not into any religion made by humans.
What I do hold faith in is the idea of a conceptual Creator. That's it.
Without believing there's some sort of architect behind this incredibly beautiful universe, making sense of everything would be impossible for me. And I reckon it should be for you, too.
If you chalk everything up to mere chance, you're setting yourself up for a challenge. Understanding the universe's complexity, not to mention the intricacies of our own environment, becomes unattainable.
That's why I believe in the necessity of a Creator—a logical one, not as described in religious scriptures.
I refer to it as an object-oriented Creator, considering everything in the universe is essentially an object. Sure, referring to this Creator with a gender-specific pronoun might not be 'politically correct,' but I prefer simplicity over complicating things in the name of political correctness—a human-made notion I seldom concern myself with. I have my limits when it comes to engaging with concepts crafted by humans. Especially if a concept feels overly restrictive, I tend to disregard it. Take religion, for example; it confines my thought process within the scope of human creativity. Yes, I'm human, but I refuse to be limited by the average human imagination. I aim to transcend it.
To truly understand something, it's crucial to metaphorically wrap your head around it, implying the need to step beyond the boundaries that define it. This becomes particularly challenging if you're deeply entrenched in a religion, as it's hard to view it from an external perspective. Achieving objectivity and creativity about it becomes a tall order. Interestingly, most creative explorations of specific religions are undertaken by individuals not adhered to those beliefs. Even when religious folks produce remarkable creative works, they do so by not being limited by their religion's doctrines—they possess the liberty to step outside those boundaries when necessary.
Consider the case of many Japanese animes or video games that delve into religious motifs, such as Evangelion or Bloodborne. These creations were possible largely because the Japanese cultural context isn’t heavily anchored in a singular religion, unlike many other societies. Their unique position, where Christianity is a minority religion, illustrates the extent of freedom available for engaging with religious themes. While Japan is home to a plethora of traditional beliefs, these are not as dogmatically rigid as some of the world’s major religions, allowing for a broader and more creative exploration of such themes.
Looking at it this way, we can see historical figures in a new light. Take Einstein as an example. He shattered the confines of Newtonian physics by daring to think outside the norm. His rejection of the period's prevailing wisdom enabled his revolutionary contributions. Yet, his deep-seated religious beliefs held him back from embracing the unpredictability of quantum mechanics. His famous statement, "God does not play dice with the universe," illustrates how one's religious convictions can curtail their creativity and impartiality.
Randomness is a fundamental element of the universe, indicating Einstein's hesitation was shaped by his beliefs. Viewing it through the lens of an object-oriented Creator—entirely a product of my imagination and logical reasoning—adding randomness into the universe's structure could make it more captivating and beautiful. It resembles seasoning a dish with the perfect amount of spice to elevate its taste and charm. A universe devoid of stochasticity would be predominantly deterministic and, frankly, quite dull. I struggle to believe that a Creator responsible for such a wondrous universe would choose such monotony. Indeed, a deterministic universe would lead me to question the extent of the Creator's intelligence and creativity. Seriously.
Let me share a tale about a Korean historical figure and seer, Lee Ji-ham, or "이지함" in Korean. He authored "Tojeong's Secret Book" or "토정비결" in Korean, a traditional Korean text utilized for fortune-telling, especially at the start of each year. Named after its creator, known for his significant contributions to Korean astrology and divination, the book offers annual forecasts based on the lunar calendar, providing insights into an individual's fortune, health, and future prospects. It belongs to the wider practice of Saju, or "사주" in Korean, which involves deciphering one's destiny using their birth date and time.
However, the book was deliberately confused and lost its original structure after Lee Ji-ham realized the dangers of revealing a deterministic future to people. When informed of a prosperous future, they tend to become indolent and complacent; when warned of misfortune, they become disheartened and despondent. In both scenarios, the common outcome was inactivity towards their predetermined destiny. Hence, he intentionally obfuscated the book to prevent people from knowing their precise futures. He championed the belief that individuals should endeavor to shape their own futures rather than be informed about them. He was a visionary, and his wisdom remains pertinent today.
Without a sprinkle of randomness at every juncture, each action becomes predictable, leading to an inevitable future despite attempts to alter one's destiny. Take a moment to ponder this: why would any supreme entity construct a system that yields uniform outcomes, regardless of the efforts to change them? It’s akin to a computer program that consistently returns the same result, no matter the input.
This is where the distinction between traditional software and machine learning becomes clear. The power of AI lies in its ability to process inputs non-linearly, thus capable of generating varied outcomes from the same input.
Consider the act of making a simple bowl of ramen. Despite following the recipe precisely, the outcome is never exactly the same; there’s always a slight variation. That’s the allure of it. That's the charm of life. That's the splendor of the universe.
If everything were predetermined, it would signify a monumental squander of resources and time. No scientist would pursue such an experiment. No artist would desire such a creation. No individual would want such an existence. Why engage in any endeavor if the outcome is already known? Such predictability hints at a profound lack of intelligence and creativity.
Now, don't argue that my Creator is inferior to Lee Ji-ham, a mere human no matter how wise he was. I won't have it.
When I say human, I mean exactly that: the normal distribution of human intelligence and creativity. Don't go thinking any religious text has been refined by outliers of the human intelligence and creativity. They're all average humans.
Think about it—humans occupy a minuscule spot in the vastness of the universe. And there's uncertainty about whether this is the sole universe out there. We're not even certain if we're the only intelligent life within our galaxy. Yet, here we are, attempting to apply laws, principles, and what we deem 'insights' gathered from our tiny corner to the entirety of the universe, or possibly universes. Isn't that overly ambitious? Frankly, it verges on the absurd and touches on sheer arrogance.
This serves as a powerful reminder of how limiting any particular frame of reference, such as religion, can be. It's akin to trying to comprehend the vastness of the universe through a keyhole; you're inevitably going to miss out on the broader view. That's why I lean towards viewing the universe as a masterpiece, crafted by an object-oriented Creator. This perspective is more adaptable and open-minded, permitting me to delve into the universe's complexities without being shackled by man-made limitations. Even those who are religious might find value in this viewpoint, as it doesn't directly oppose their beliefs. Ideally, it should deepen their understanding of the universe, rather than reduce it. Yet, more often than not, the opposite occurs. Such is the strength of human imagination, and it's common for religious individuals to react with hostility when their beliefs are questioned. This is precisely why I steer clear of debates on religion, as well as politics and ideologies. The scenario is much the same in those realms.
If you haven’t seen "The Man from Earth," I suggest giving it a watch. It’s a captivating film that ventures beyond the usual boundaries of both religion and science. Pay attention to the reaction of the scientists and religious individuals to the protagonist's extraordinary claims. "Blasphemy," indeed! Haha.
Their responses are quite emblematic of the typical human reaction to any challenge to their deeply held beliefs. It’s a compelling film, and I strongly recommend it. After watching, you might find yourself nodding along, thinking, "Yes, that's just like us humans. We're so predictable. So average. So... human."
Consider the nature of sayings and adages, for instance. They encapsulate the thoughts and experiences of average people, which is precisely why they resonate so well with human behavior. They aim to cover as broad a spectrum of humanity as possible, having been honed and distilled through the wisdom of countless generations. Using these insights as a guideline or benchmark for human behavior is, statistically speaking, sensible. This is why I often emphasize that all the insights we need have already been unearthed and encapsulated in these sayings and adages. While there may be millions of them, at their core, they are merely different expressions of a handful of fundamental truths. We inherit wisdom from the past and enrich it with our own experiences and interpretations. This is the process by which we continuously reframe and reiterate similar foundational truths, leading to the striking similarities among many sayings and adages.
From a statistical perspective, an essential instrument in the Creator's toolkit, the essence of these insights ought to be applicable across the entire universe, not merely to humanity. Viewed through the lens of object-orientation—a pivotal element in our object-oriented Creator's toolkit—the crux of these insights should establish the base truths from which the entire universe can derive and incorporate polymorphic characteristics as required. This embodies the quintessence of the Creator's intellect and creativity as an object-oriented being. It's rooted in pure logic, free from any religious doctrine.
Essentially, statistics and object-orientation, with mathematics serving as the foundational abstract class from which both statistics and object-orientation inherit, constitute the cornerstone of my beliefs and, by the same logic, this universe. Again, this is grounded in pure logic, untainted by any religious doctrine.
The true allure of object-orientation indeed lies in its capacity for polymorphism. I wouldn't rigidly assert that human insights must apply uniformly across every part of the universe as they stand—that would be deterministic, lacking the polymorphic charm of randomness. Rather, I propose that the core of these insights should have universal relevance, with their specific manifestations varying by context. This variability is the polymorphic beauty of the universe, lending life its fascinating and mesmerizing qualities. How exactly this works remains a mystery, thus the necessity for encapsulation. As we evolve and gain the capability to delve into this black box, some outliers among the human populace might further comprehend the universe's essence, continuing our historical trajectory of discovery and understanding.
Through this lens, Einstein's theory of relativity and quantum mechanics aren't in conflict but rather serve as complements to one another, embodying the concept of polymorphism. For instance, the gravitational pull of Earth cannot be assumed to apply uniformly across the universe. The same goes for mass—its effects vary. Light bending around massive objects should not occur in a uniform manner.
Time, too, should be seen as relative—eschewing absolutes, constants, and uniformity in favor of polymorphism. Einstein comprehended this, showcasing his brilliance. However, what he lacked was the object-oriented viewpoint. Had he stepped outside his religious framework and perceived the universe as an object-oriented marvel, he might have recognized quantum mechanics not as a contradiction but as a complementary piece of his own theories. This extends to the subatomic level, presenting a new context and thus a new expression of the universe's foundational essence—once more, grounded in pure logic, devoid of the religious convictions that influenced Einstein.
You could counter with examples like Antonio Gaudí and Michelangelo, who were indeed incredible creative minds, even within the confines of specific religious beliefs. Setting aside the humorous notion of them being alien castaways camouflaged by relatable religious beliefs, consider what might have been if they were entirely unbound by these confines.
Have you pondered what additional wonders they could have created? Why do so many of their works, regardless of their marvel, revolve around specific themes? Imagine Gaudí, Michelangelo, and Einstein unfettered by religious constraints. What might they have created and envisioned? How much broader could their creativity have spanned? How significantly more could they have contributed to our comprehension of the universe? Just the thought is thrilling.
Okay, here's a good opportunity for your thought experiment. Reflect on why. Why these somewhat contradictory things happen if we do have an object-oriented Creator?
Religious people often say "Gods have his own plan," or "It's God's will." But if we have an object-oriented Creator, why would such a being create a universe with such contradictions? Why would it allow such confusion to persist? Why would it permit such a vast array of interpretations and beliefs to emerge? Why would it not provide a clear, unambiguous answer?
From an object-oriented scientific viewpoint, the answer appears straightforward once more: object-orientation is intrinsically infused with stochasticity. Whether we label it as free will or randomness, it remains a part of the grand design of this magnificent universe or universes. This interpretation is the only one that resonates with me.
Even when religious individuals talk about "God's will," they tend to interpret it through their own lens, highlighting the constraints of human interpretation. Ultimately, it's their own will that takes precedence, not necessarily that of a deity.
That's precisely why I'm not particularly fond of any religion created by humans.
The complex interplay between determinism and randomness in the universe, mirroring the intricacies observed in advanced AI models, highlights that randomness isn't in opposition to determinism but rather a crucial complement to it. This dynamic reflects a system designed with intention, perhaps by an object-oriented Creator, in which determinism lays down a consistent framework, while randomness injects variability and opportunities for innovation—essentially, the principle of polymorphism. Such a structure fosters a universe that is fundamentally ordered yet ripe with possibilities for spontaneous changes, similar to the adaptability and problem-solving observed in computational models that utilize non-linearity and randomness.
Incorporating stochasticity alongside determinism fosters creativity, evolution, and the emergence of complex systems. This concept parallels biological evolution, where randomness in genetic mutations drives diversity and adaptation. The coexistence of predictability and unpredictability in this manner facilitates free will, diversity in life, and the perpetual evolution of the cosmos. It positions randomness as a deliberate feature of the universe's design, suggesting that meaningfulness and purpose thrive amidst, and are indeed enhanced by, the inherent randomness of the cosmos.
Therefore, determinism and stochasticity are not at odds but are complementary facets of the universe's architecture, possibly orchestrated by an object-oriented Creator. This viewpoint enriches our understanding of the universe's complexity and elegance, reconciling the human pursuit of meaning with a cosmos that accommodates both order and the unforeseen, within its grand design.
Escaping the grasp of any realm of human creativity is an immense challenge, comparable to escaping the event horizon of a black hole. Every belief or value you possess, no matter how seemingly insignificant or evident, requires the ability to step outside its boundaries. Can you do that? Can you genuinely detach from your own beliefs and values? Can you view them from an external vantage point? Can you remain objective about them? Can you approach them with creativity?
To illustrate the difficulty, think about a moral quandary involving a parent and their child. Could you transcend your role as a parent to objectively assess the situation? Could you break free from all the norms and values that have been ingrained in you as a human?
By design, no one can.
Liberating oneself from the constraints of human creativity begins with acknowledging the need for a new level or domain where the rules differ: classical physics governs the Earth, relativity applies to space, and quantum mechanics to the subatomic realm. Each of these distinct domains operates within its own "universe," so to say, either governed by different rules or by the same fundamental principles manifesting in polymorphic forms.
In programming, the principles of object-orientation manifest in real time and are directly applicable. For instance, if you debug an ancestor class, the polymorphic descendants that inherit from it are updated instantly, reflecting the changes in real time. While the specifics can vary based on the programming language used, the process essentially occurs in real time.
However, in real life, the four pillars of object-orientation—abstraction, inheritance, polymorphism, and encapsulation—unfold over time and are not as instantly recognizable. Yet, as we explore the vastness of the universe, the indispensability of these principles becomes increasingly clear. The universe operates as a colossal object-oriented system, with the Creator, assuming their existence, standing as the supreme object-oriented entity. From our limited human viewpoint, an unimaginable amount of time and effort has been dedicated to the universe's creation. And still, the universe continues to evolve, adapt, and transform, akin to any object-oriented system. The Creator might be observing this simulation, experiment, or whatever it might be with satisfaction, could have moved on, or might still be intricately involved.
Who can say? From our limited human viewpoint, our universe might merely be akin to a simulation labeled 'A123' sitting in a lab, potentially with no one observing it.
We cannot ascertain this with certainty. However, we can affirm that the universe is a magnificent object-oriented system, and the Creator, if there is one, is the ultimate object-oriented being.
It is indeed amusing how we, without hesitation, refer to the Creator as singular or plural. This mirrors the treatment in religious texts, where God is sometimes mentioned in singular form and other times in plural. It highlights how our perceptions are tied to the frames of reference we are bound by. Ultimately, even the concepts of singularity or plurality are human constructs.
At the start of this discussion, I broached the subject of political correctness in using gender-neutral terms to refer to the Creator. The irony is in thinking that the Creator should conform to any gender. Shouldn't the Creator, being all-encompassing and beyond human-imposed limits, render such distinctions irrelevant? Considering how some religious texts hint at the multiplicity of a divine being through their language, it seems that this entity, whether viewed as singular or multiple, would regard the notion of gender as inconsequential.
Essentially, humans have a tendency to perceive what they wish to perceive. Consider your preferred deity or divine figure, for instance.
Now, think of those deemed malevolent. What images come to mind?
Precisely, this highlights my point: we all see what we choose to see.
This inclination to see what we wish is a trait inherent to us as humans. It might very well be one of the enchantments of being human, possibly even a component of the grand design itself.
The endeavor to question the design is likely another aspect of this grand scheme.
Absent this questioning, life and the universe could appear entirely mundane.
Did I mention I prefer not to play boring games, by the way?