A couple of papers and publications for you to mull over and think about. Comments are not only welcomed, but encouraged. I’d like to think my thoughts are not completely off-base 
May 2008- This is my final undergraduate essay. Not my finest, nor my most academic (in the strict thesis-argument sort of way), but a final meditation that brought together some of the things I loved to study most; some physical chemistry, some math, and some philosophy. There’s a little bit of everything in there for everyone, I hope.
End of Philosophy
“The World is Gone: A Meditation on the End of Philosophy”
16 May, 2008
The world is gone, we’ll carry on,
We’ll do without it
- “Without It”- Mute Math
Completion as end is a rather natural idea. To come to an eschatological end implies a departure from a start point, participation is some sort of circumnavagational activity, then a return to some form akin to that of the beginning, thus bringing to a close an event demarcated by this movement. Traditionally, philosophy seems to follow this model. It may not be a loop as much as it is a spiral; from above ending where it started, yet vertically disconnected when viewed from the side, like running 360o up/down a spiral staircase. This seems opposed to the linearity of time and space. The evolution of the universe from an infinitely dense singularity, to now, to its predicted end is a finite chain of physical events that systematically follow the mathematical rules inherent to our universe. We’re trapped like an undamped mass-spring system; oscillating, sketching out uniform circular motion for all time, until time itself expires. Its absurd, and maybe that’s the point. Philosophy cannot be eschatological, nor can the mathematics of theoretical physics and the evolution of our universe be anything close to linear. If anything, my encounter with philosophy has put the world just beyond my reach, leaving me afloat in the strangeness of the things around me. Ironically, mathematics allows me to map the strange by complete abstraction, one that is similar to, if not the same as, the philosophical abstraction of myself from my being-at-home. I feel like a blind man who can manipulate his world with the utmost precision, without actually knowing (due to a Levinassian respect for alterity) what is being manipulated. I’ve been inverted. Philosophy has set reality in its place, and consequently, its completion is not in the act of completion, but in the act of opening up something more than any mathematically governed finite idea of the infinite, to something sous-existent. Reality is ironic; what is is only as real as the imaginary, and it is only through a philosophy that I was not only able to see, but move beyond that.
Some theorists state that our universe started as an infinitely small, infinitely dense, infinitely hot singular sphere. Upon explosion (i.e. the Big Bang), it began to immediately expand, as it still does today, cooling at a rate proportional to its expansion. Here is our start point; differential equations applied to thermodynamics. From the infinitely dense mixture of mass and energy (which are really one in the same) comes the liberation of energy to the universe – entropy. The universe is moving towards complete disorder, but to do so, the proportion of free energy to energy bound by stagnant molecules must increase. That is, all physical objects are now becoming more stable, more dense in their molecular makeup in order to free excess energy into the expanding universe. This is the classic exothermic reaction; the spontaneous rearrangement of molecules so that their molecular conformations are at a lower, more stable Gibb’s free energy, thus increasing the energy gradient between structured and free energy. The expanding universe is essentially sucking energy into its more dilute spaces.
Certain phenomena, such as resonance, provides an interesting example to describe the slow supposition of physical entities upon one another. As things become more stable, that is closer together, they begin to invade one another. Everything has a natural frequency, w , of vibration. Take, for example, an undamped mass-spring system. It oscillates for all time at a constant frequency, which interestingly enough is derived from a complex variable (an imaginary number). However, when that system is forced to oscillate with a frequency that matches the natural frequency, wnatural = wforced , the amplitude begins to grow linearly, according to amplitude = (Force x time)/(2w) ,until it gets so large that the system breaks. Entropy – the liberation of more energy from a whole entity breaking into pieces. Extrapolate this idea for all things over a long period of time.
Eventually, the expansion of space will reach a limit where all energy is liberated from the mass to which it gives rise. Thus, we end with a new unitary whole, a space that is infinitely dilute, a one that is truly one, since all energy gradients have now dissolved – thermodynamic equilibrium. The physical world described by mathematics has thus returned to a form from which it has started, a singularity of a different sort. Reality is eschatological, though along its circumnavigation, we believe it to be linear chain of events, an alpha and omega.
The mathematics (and the physical universe which it models) really “go” nowhere. Mathematical abstraction is but the precursor to philosophical abstraction; the former in itself being the model for the latter. Euler came up with a formula, e iP - 1 = 0. e to an imaginary exponent, i , times pi equals one. The imaginary is as concrete as the real. That’s the insight. Reality, existence itself, is still interwoven with the abstract imaginary. Philosophy needs not to have such a limit. Philosophy can be linear, protruding not through to the entities of reality, through the realm where math rules, in order to uncover truths and create conceptions. Philosophy need not assault existence, but aim under it, above it, around it, tangential to it. Math does well to leave existence nameless in its equations, but philosophy can place the world beyond my reach, abstracting me from the pool of the strange, to something without a thing. We need a new word for end. Not limit, completion, goal, or cessation. Philosophy is the self-perpetuation of that search. Philosophy at its “end” is wonder subject to Potential beyond Being. There’s so much more that is not.
Here we are
Isn’t life bizarre?
It likes to take from us and throw it out
We’ll carry on
What’s done is done
Yeah, we’ll do without it somehow
April 2008 – This was the second to last philosophy meditation I wrote as an undergrad. For those of you who think philosophy and math (and therefore the rest of the sciences) have nothing in common, please read on.’
Infinite Multiplicity as the Only Singularity
Perhaps we are victims of presence, deluded by the overt singularity of every existent, including existence itself. It may not be that things retreat into some mystical obscurity as we draw nearer, but that they continuously assault every communicative faculty we have, from the physical to the abstract, as an army of one. Existence itself is erected as a whole, constructed not only by the apparent physical objects that fall within its set, but demarcated at its limits by the constant reaches of man’s mind. However, the illusion of any sort of completeness may indeed actually be an illusion generated by the inability to conceive that which bounds existence; something like the infinite, which in turn implies a perfect multiplicity. This is something akin to Badiou’s multiplicity. The image of “one-ness” seems to be a simple conclusion made priority over the infinite underpinnings that not only give a space for being, but run in every which direction as the expanse outside of it.
By the philosophical tradition, for one to understand a thing by its constituent parts quickly becomes discarded in favor for a unifying essence. Essence, as such, lends organization to chaos, synthesizing the parts of a thing into a irreconcilable whole. Such a whole becomes the criterion by which we can start to collect the many under different names; squirrels under the Form of Squirrel, chairs under the Form of Chair, and humans categorized under Human. Cubby-holes to organize being. Yet, like in mathematics, the name, the set, not only has the possibility to be an infinite set, but in way, always is one. This is what we may call Potential; to not lose sight of the infinite space available for all non- or yet-to-be members. Its a simple claim, yet its interesting how when nothing “fills” empty space between objects of a set, we disregard it as non-existent, focus on the palpable objects, and cut off any excess space with an end bracket. We may not realize that in circumscribing a space upon an infinite plane, what lays within the boundaries at first glance only looks finite. But thats the problem; the way it looks. In reality, that space is infinitely divisible, thus making it infinitely large by a measure of magnitude.
Take existence into consideration. What was before existence but an infinite expanse, a void of being? Existence itself circumscribes a space, a singular, self-inclusive set populated with all existents. However, viewed from a mathematical perspective, namely the idea that between any two integers (which we can take as any two objects in existence), there exists an infinite amount of numbers that never really run up against each other, but only remain infinitely close. Tangential, yet never truly “touching”. It leaves us with a sort of density paradox. Namely, that there are no consistent, whole objects, but an infinitely dilute existence that presents itself as a continuous singularity.
A mathematical model may help exploit man’s ignorance to the concept of the infinite. Let it be known that even in mathematics we only really are able to work with the infinite, since certain conceptualizations, known as indeterminate forms when dealing with limits, fail. Perhaps this is how it should be. Perhaps conceptualization only works on the level of the singular, and thus, only able to skim the surface, never to probe the infinite, as it is a place beyond the limits of being.
Starting with the classic Cartesian x-y plane, consider the function f(x) = (1/x). The function runs tangential to the positive y-axis as well as to the positive x-axis for infinite time in both directions. By integrating the function from one to infinity, we find the area bounded by the curve to be infinite. Thus, an infinitely long function bounds an infinite area, which seems rather logical. However, if we are to take the square of (1/x) to get (1/x)2, and perform the same integration, the area trapped under our infinitely long function is 1. Its amazing that multiplying the function by itself drops the area from infinitely large to a finite, singular integer.
But its only an illusion. The generation of an area of 1 comes from an argument based on taking the sum of infinitely small areas beneath the curve itself for an infinite amount of time. Thus, we can see a rift in our understanding of the infinite; there are different levels. The infinite is not a constant, but a fluid phenomena based in rates of growth, or speed of divisibility. It lacks the apparent consistency of being, but has a funny way of giving rise to it.
Badiou may have meant something like this. Though I am biased towards mathematics, taking a non-mathematical look at the rules and proofs we as an academic community use all the time, yet take for granted, hold an insight that may give us an aerial view of what may lie outside of being. More importantly, juxtaposition against the infinite at all boundaries, while simultaneously being constituted by it, makes the singularity of being seem rather transparent. With infinitely small “spaces” between all constituents that give rise to the overall set of existence, we may see the potential for the possibility that there is really no-thing at all. Being may be as artificial as the area bound under (1/x)2.
Februrary 2006 – I wrote this article as a reflection on my Medical Mission to Samar, Philippines. It not only ended up being published in The Philippine Surgeon, it also turned out to be my personal statement for medical school.
A Philosophical Reflection on the Medical Mission
A year may have given me enough time to digest my experiences in Samar. I could always use more time to recount it, to convince myself that things like the mission actually exist – and that I was included.
I guess I should start at the end, since we’re moving backwards in time. At the final dinner, Dr. Dorado closed his speech with “If you want to be happy for a lifetime, serve humanity.” Money, fishing, and naps only have a transient handle on time; “happiness” with a lower-case “h”. Plato would call these entrapments “particulars”. Pieces of the mortal life, blips on the radar. But serving humanity transcends time, making it a “universal”. According to him, Happiness is life pursuing universals. Dr. Barcelona calls serving other humans “Christianity in action”. Marx, the Species-Being ideal. Kant, the Categorical Imperative. Call it what you want, it’s liberation to the upper-case “H”.
It’s strange. Naturally, I expected instant gratification, because I knew I was doing a good thing. I thought I would feel like a kid in a candy store.
The patients, mostly older than I, had lived far more taxing lives than any American could imagine. They looked more sick with despair than they did with uterine cysts, bowling ball sized goiters, or tumors that spanned the physiological spectrum. Yet, a little hope shimmered upon eye contact with anyone waiting in the hallway – here I was looking at the floor. Avoiding. It was only day one and I already felt more helpless than they did. I thought walking in the surgical socks made me look like a 3-year old on ice skates. What could I do for anyone? In America I’m defined. I’m a restricted undergrad who knows some cool stuff about the sciences. I can look, but can’t touch. The jawbreakers look tasty, but I’m a nickel short. Here, I was assisting these doctors in the OR. An alien with no proof of insurance. No external governing body. No socio-academic status. No restrictions except the unspoken, mutual trust shared by myself and every patient I encountered. It needed no language to be understood. All I had was the right intent. And that was enough. That, I believe, was the most humbling realization of my lifetime.
So I began to put stones in place. An archetypal foundation of knowledge and confidence under the direction of the surgeons. I got first hand experience. I met Willy Wonka. And beyond all the titillating, mouth watering, medical candy I noticed something far more interesting. Upon arriving in Samar, some of the doctors still had the wear and tear of the “real world” on their faces. International calls were still being made rescheduling appointments, worrying about overheads to be paid; all the tedious odds and ends inherent to the outside world Business of Medicine. I got the impression that performing in the Philippines for the mission was almost a chore. The first day in the OR was all business. We worked with machine-like execution. Blank faces all around the room.
Day two was when I heard it. Dr. Barcelona cracked a joke. Other doctors laughed. Then the nurses. Slowly it spread throughout the entire SPSA staff. The room got a little warmer. I noticed the walls in the OR were sea-green. All of the sudden the “real world” didn’t exist. All that was left was love for our work. Passion for our labor. When I say this now it sounds pretentious. But it was real. It was simple. Each operation was a direct doctor-patient relationship with no payment plans or fine print. I watched the disposition of each doctor move from the Business of Medicine back to the Art of Medicine. Back to the reason they do what they do, happiness to Happiness. Aristotle defines Catharsis as a “purification” or a restoration of life from an extreme change in emotion. I witnessed the surgeons wake up to artistry from mechanical dormancy.
Aristotle got it right when he said Happiness is an activity. Marx perfected it; laboring in the service of humanity pays in Happiness. It is our essence to do the former in order to attain only the latter. Nevertheless, it’s still work. Standing for twelve to fourteen hours a day arched over a table without losing dexterity isn’t easy. Yet, I’ve never worked so well on four hours of sleep, and awoken as recharged, as I did that week. Tilapia and packaged coffee always taste better before the morning paper arrives.
I think I slept an entire day after the week ended. I’d do it again anytime. I’d love to really wake up for another week. I’ve learned that lifetime experiences require that you live for others. Anyway, the flight only takes a day or two, and you can sleep on the way.
