Divine Benevolence

 

I was, this morning, introduced to Thomas Bayes by Christof Koch, but Koch was discussing probability and citing “Bayes’ Theorem.” I do not know why, but I found myself stuck on the name, Bayes. I wanted to know why his theorem was worth the attention given by Koch. I knew it was somehow related to Koch’s recent “Awakening.” So I dove in. Oddly enough, there is not much published about Thomas Bayes. There is supposedly a small paper known as “Divine Benevolence.” But so far, I have not found a printed copy. I can find a company that will print it for me, but I think I should be able to discover it online.

I feel the argument Bayes may be making in his paper is the same as the argument I keep trying to flesh out: that the real reason for creation is Joy. Bayes calls it “Happiness,” but I think the words are fiercely related.

While my faith ebbs and flows, I am confident that my Dad was literally trying to convey the most important lesson on his deathbed when he said to me, “Mark, God created us for his pleasure, and he created everything else for our pleasure.”

It was not that I did not get it right then; in fact, I did. I felt it. It practically baptized me. I was not feeling particularly gullible just because my father was dying. I was there for his comfort and not my own. I felt I had been a good son to my Dad and I was not trying to build a quick, makeshift relationship in that moment. I was just there in the event he needed me. And I was interested in what he had to say; but that was not a new position for me. I was always interested in anything my Dad said.

Without further ado, I would like to point directly to the pièce de résistance of my life’s work: Joy.

I do not make the claim that I am forever and always filled with Joy, but I do believe that if God is Love, and Love allows for consciousness, and that consciousness is responsible for opposites, and that if I am one such result, the only reason for me would be to gather and give Joy.

Nothing else tracks for me. In modern science, I have discovered many new thinkers who are finally making connections that apply to our lives, rather than to what degree one atom disintegrates when smashed into another one. Computers and artificial intelligence models have gotten so close to reproducing human-like patterns that science is left scrambling to explain why AI is not, and cannot be, like us.

So far, the taste of chocolate is safely subjective, and it is very easy for me to doubt an artificial model’s ability to enjoy a chocolate bar.

Could a language model talk about chocolate? We know the answer; AI could fill a library with chocolate data. However, taking a chocolate bar and placing it within that same library would never translate to a machine as “the joys of chocolate.”

The “Stubborn Problem” of consciousness is not really hard at all; it just refuses to divulge its secrets by way of math.

With a 17-mile-long collider, we should finally be able to answer the age-old question: “What’s the matter?”

This is science, and it is both helpful and good, but no one at CERN should ever be particularly concerned with the way atoms feel upon impact.

A twenty-volume set of books on truffles would be a very simple, abstract overview of what it might be like to taste one.

Subjectivity is not a program. There is not an app for that.

We are at an intersection where philosophers are explaining what it is like to be human, while science is not quite ready to give up on a formula.

Federico Faggin is one of the rare exceptions. He experienced an eruption of Love from within. “...It’s coming from me…” he said.

This is a perfect example of the paradigm shift I am referring to.

Science will go on tracking the bending of light around stars, and this will help to determine what kind of systems are out there. Science will continue to measure quantum effects, and this should help to develop faster, more accurate computers. Science will become more and more familiar with the effects of aldehydes in cilantro, but the explanation and the math will never be enough to convince my wife that cilantro does not taste like soap. It is her experience and it is felt, rather than explained.

Neville Goddard lectured about “the feeling” for the latter half of his life. Like any good teacher, he would ask, “How does it feel?”

And instead of encouraging his listeners to explore the probabilities of future events in a laboratory, he taught that change was always the result of assumptions, based on feelings.

Bayes’s Theorem is based on “A belief held before the evidence is examined.”

Belief adjusts as evidence accumulates.

Goddard, as far as I know, never mentioned Bayes or his theorem, but Goddard encouraged time spent with prior beliefs.

Jesus explained faith in a Bayesian way: “It is the substance of things hoped for and evidence of things you cannot see.”

All I am saying is that your present beliefs will have an effect on your future realities.

When you arrive to experience the reality of any moment, a look back should reveal to you that there were assumptions in place before you were there to examine the evidence.

I speak for myself when I say that I am rarely surprised by an experience because I try to educate myself enough to develop the most reasonable priors.

When I book a hotel, I try to book one where the ratings set my prior beliefs in line with the experience I hope to have. This reduces the unfolding of unpleasant surprises, and unravels the excitement and thrill of risk at the same time.

This morning, my wife and I talked about going to a concert in October, but she looked into the venue and said, “There is no seating, so we’d be standing the whole time.”

While we love live music, my wife and I prefer comfort when it’s available.

I was about to buy tickets, but our prior beliefs about standing for two hours was enough to reset our navigation.

 

Bayes’ Theorem can be a little complicated, but I am reminded of lyrics by Billy Joel:

 

You may be right I may be crazy

Oh, but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for ~ You May Be Right by Billy Joel

 

Within every situation, there is an element of rightness which should only be considered as part of the equation. As Joel’s song suggests, suppose that’s what one is looking for. This is exactly what Thomas Bayes was getting at 280 years ago. You combine your old guesses with new clues for a newly updated, better guess.

I believe that Goddard was right and that leading with better assumptions will result in better outcomes.

There is no reason to doubt this in my opinion. It is very much like The Force in Star Wars, and a matrix in other myths: Assumptions change outcomes, and assumptions can be changed.

The ultimate outcome of the entire universe is Joy. Love is the prior environment, perfect for the growth of Joy. If you really want to know why planets and stars are flying away from each other in all directions, you won’t find the answer within the framework of gravity. Look instead at divine benevolence and consider Joy as one of your Bayesian inferences, and you’ll see that our utopian universe has no other option; it must expand.

We are here for God’s pleasure.