The Power of Art and Emotion: Should We Worry About Manipulation?

[LuckyR]

You seem to be conflating influencing and causing as it pertains to decision making. Just about everyone, including most subscribers to Free Will, agree with the idea of externals "influencing" (yet not totally "causing") human decision makkng. Thus identifying and proving the ecistance externals that influence decision making does nothing to support Determinism.

Let me approach this by explaining determinism in a way that roots it firmly in the physical principles that govern our universe. At its core, determinism means that everything has a cause. Every event, every decision, every action is the result of a chain of prior events, stretching back to the beginning of time. This isn’t just a philosophical idea—it’s embedded in the very fabric of physical reality.

Here’s how it works:

The universe operates under physical conservation laws, which state that certain physical quantities—like energy, momentum, and charge—cannot be created or destroyed. These quantities are conserved, meaning they can only be transferred or transformed from one object to another. This happens through the four fundamental interactions of physics: gravity, electromagnetism, the strong nuclear force, and the weak nuclear force.

Each of these interactions governs exchanges between specific types of objects:

1. Gravity transfers momentum and energy between objects with mass. It doesn’t affect things without mass.
2. Electromagnetism operates between objects with charge, exchanging energy, momentum, and angular momentum through electric or magnetic forces.
3. The strong nuclear force binds the particles in atomic nuclei together.
4. The weak nuclear force governs certain types of particle decay and nuclear processes.

The crucial point is this: these interactions only occur between compatible objects. For example, gravity cannot affect something that has no mass, and electromagnetism cannot interact with something that has no charge. This is why the physical world is so tightly interconnected but also strictly governed by these rules.

Now, let’s bring this back to the mind, soul, or free will. If the mind, soul, or free will is truly non-physical—lacking mass, charge, or any of the properties that allow interaction with the physical world—then it cannot interact with the neurons in our brains or anything else in the physical world. It would be entirely cut off, like a ghost incapable of moving a single atom.

On the other hand, if the mind, soul, or free will does have mass or charge, then it becomes part of the physical universe. It would be subject to the same laws of conservation and causality as everything else, and it would be pushed and pulled by every other object in the universe. In this scenario, it’s no longer "free" in any meaningful sense because it’s just another physical system governed by deterministic interactions.

This is the crux of determinism: if everything that exists is part of this causal web—governed by the conservation laws and the four fundamental interactions—then there’s no room for "free" will to exist outside of it. Choices, decisions, and actions are all products of the physical processes in our brains, which are shaped by genetics, environment, and prior experiences.

When people talk about "influences" on decision-making, they’re describing the same causal chain. In a deterministic view, there’s no separate "you" standing outside the chain, choosing freely. Every thought, every feeling, every decision is a result of the physical conditions and processes that preceded it.

If free will exists, it must fit into this framework. But as soon as it does, it ceases to be "free" in the traditional sense—it’s just another part of the causal system. This is why determinism isn’t just about external influences; it’s about the entire structure of causality that underpins everything we experience.

I see no meaningful distinction between influencing and causing within this framework.

Let me illustrate the difference between influencing and causing. Let's say in the future, humans can know every potential variable in the brain-state at any time point. There are three general possibilities: the first is that despite this full knowledge of the brain-state at the point just before that of decision making, the ability to predict the decision is no better than chance. This would imply that decision making is not related to the brain-state at all. The second is that with this pre-knowledge decision making could be predicted with 100% accuracy. This would prove Determinism and the brain-state "causes" the following decision. The third, which is what we observe currently, BTW, is that with pre-knowledge of the brain-state, decision making can be predicted better than pure chance but less than 100%. The portion between chance and what is observed (less than 100%) is the "influence" of the brain-state, say one is more likely to choose chocolate ice cream over vanilla ice cream after seeing an advert for chocolate candy. The portion between what is observed and 100% I call Free Will, but I'm not wedded to the term, you can call it something else, say you watch that advert but "decide" on vanilla anyway. The advert doesn't "cause" you to choose chocolate, because sometimes you don't, but it does "influence" you to choose chocolate because having watched it, it increases, but not to 100%, your choice of chocolate.

[BigMike]

Should We Worry About Manipulation?

Is there any "should" at all? We will or we won't depending upon the trajectory of the matter that comprises us, right? This is all a play that has already been written on a stage whose foundation has already been designed, like a movie script we are little more than actors who perform our pre-written lines and routines as they were assigned to each of us billions of years in advance. Is there any other choice? Is there any such thing as "choice" at all?

How depressing and pointless life now seems. Everything is "matter", and yet my mind now says nothing "matters". In a sense, there is no mind called Gary Childress that donated all his life savings to help a woman he loved get out of a financial jam. There was no Gary Childress who callously teased poor Kenneth Pirnat back in Elementar School. Gary Childress, as an author of his own life is simply a fiction. There is no "Gary Childress" the author of a book of poetry (indeed, Gary Childress did not write that book). I am little more than a collection of matter moving in the direction it has already been determined to travel. How depressing that seems.

Gary, your reflection is profoundly moving, and I can sense the weight of your introspection. The deterministic view can indeed feel daunting at first glance—it seems to strip away the romance of autonomy, the feeling of being the sole author of our stories. But I’d argue that there’s a way to see this framework not as bleak and dehumanizing, but as an opportunity to view life, and your own journey, in a profoundly interconnected and meaningful way.

You ask, “Is there any should at all?” From a deterministic standpoint, the answer isn’t as nihilistic as it might seem. "Should" exists within a practical and relational framework. While we may be products of causal chains, those chains include our values, our empathy, and our desires to make the world better for ourselves and others. When you helped a woman you loved, that wasn’t a hollow act just because it was determined—it was an expression of who you are, shaped by countless moments of compassion, love, and connection. Those moments aren’t diminished by their causes; they are enriched by them.

It’s also worth considering this: if everything is determined, then your sense of purpose, your creativity, and your relationships are as much a part of the causal web as the stars and planets. Saying “nothing matters” assumes that matter itself is devoid of meaning, but that’s not the case. Meaning isn’t some abstract, immaterial force—it’s an emergent property of the complex interactions that make up our lives. When you wrote your book of poetry, you captured your experience, your thoughts, and your emotions—deterministic, yes, but no less meaningful because they were rooted in the fabric of the universe.

Think of it this way: in a deterministic universe, your life isn’t diminished—it’s embedded in something far greater. Every interaction, every choice (yes, even choices, as part of deterministic processes) is a point of connection between you and the vast causal web of existence. When you callously teased Kenneth Pirnat in elementary school, you didn’t do so in a vacuum. You were shaped by the environment, the context, the emotions of a young Gary Childress. Similarly, when you gave your life savings to help someone, it wasn’t an empty act—it was a culmination of love, empathy, and countless influences that led you to care deeply for her well-being.

The story of Gary Childress, then, isn’t erased by determinism. It’s contextualized. You are not a solitary figure writing your story in isolation; you are part of a grand, interconnected narrative. Your life matters because it’s interwoven with the lives of others, with the systems and environments that shape us all. Far from being depressing, this understanding can deepen your appreciation for how extraordinary it is that you, Gary Childress, exist as a unique constellation of experiences and causes.

The deterministic view doesn’t take away the significance of your actions—it explains how they come to be, showing that they’re grounded in the rich complexity of reality. And if everything is determined, then so too is your drive to seek meaning, to create poetry, to love, and to reflect on your life. These aren’t illusions; they are profound expressions of the universe’s intricate beauty, realized through you.

Can you see your life, and the life of "Gary Childress," not as meaningless but as deeply embedded in the fabric of something vast, dynamic, and awe-inspiring?

[Gary Childress]

Should We Worry About Manipulation?

Is there any "should" at all? We will or we won't depending upon the trajectory of the matter that comprises us, right? This is all a play that has already been written on a stage whose foundation has already been designed, like a movie script we are little more than actors who perform our pre-written lines and routines as they were assigned to each of us billions of years in advance. Is there any other choice? Is there any such thing as "choice" at all?

How depressing and pointless life now seems. Everything is "matter", and yet my mind now says nothing "matters". In a sense, there is no mind called Gary Childress that donated all his life savings to help a woman he loved get out of a financial jam. There was no Gary Childress who callously teased poor Kenneth Pirnat back in Elementar School. Gary Childress, as an author of his own life is simply a fiction. There is no "Gary Childress" the author of a book of poetry (indeed, Gary Childress did not write that book). I am little more than a collection of matter moving in the direction it has already been determined to travel. How depressing that seems.

Gary, your reflection is profoundly moving, and I can sense the weight of your introspection. The deterministic view can indeed feel daunting at first glance—it seems to strip away the romance of autonomy, the feeling of being the sole author of our stories. But I’d argue that there’s a way to see this framework not as bleak and dehumanizing, but as an opportunity to view life, and your own journey, in a profoundly interconnected and meaningful way.

You ask, “Is there any should at all?” From a deterministic standpoint, the answer isn’t as nihilistic as it might seem. "Should" exists within a practical and relational framework. While we may be products of causal chains, those chains include our values, our empathy, and our desires to make the world better for ourselves and others. When you helped a woman you loved, that wasn’t a hollow act just because it was determined—it was an expression of who you are, shaped by countless moments of compassion, love, and connection. Those moments aren’t diminished by their causes; they are enriched by them.

It’s also worth considering this: if everything is determined, then your sense of purpose, your creativity, and your relationships are as much a part of the causal web as the stars and planets. Saying “nothing matters” assumes that matter itself is devoid of meaning, but that’s not the case. Meaning isn’t some abstract, immaterial force—it’s an emergent property of the complex interactions that make up our lives. When you wrote your book of poetry, you captured your experience, your thoughts, and your emotions—deterministic, yes, but no less meaningful because they were rooted in the fabric of the universe.

Think of it this way: in a deterministic universe, your life isn’t diminished—it’s embedded in something far greater. Every interaction, every choice (yes, even choices, as part of deterministic processes) is a point of connection between you and the vast causal web of existence. When you callously teased Kenneth Pirnat in elementary school, you didn’t do so in a vacuum. You were shaped by the environment, the context, the emotions of a young Gary Childress. Similarly, when you gave your life savings to help someone, it wasn’t an empty act—it was a culmination of love, empathy, and countless influences that led you to care deeply for her well-being.

The story of Gary Childress, then, isn’t erased by determinism. It’s contextualized. You are not a solitary figure writing your story in isolation; you are part of a grand, interconnected narrative. Your life matters because it’s interwoven with the lives of others, with the systems and environments that shape us all. Far from being depressing, this understanding can deepen your appreciation for how extraordinary it is that you, Gary Childress, exist as a unique constellation of experiences and causes.

The deterministic view doesn’t take away the significance of your actions—it explains how they come to be, showing that they’re grounded in the rich complexity of reality. And if everything is determined, then so too is your drive to seek meaning, to create poetry, to love, and to reflect on your life. These aren’t illusions; they are profound expressions of the universe’s intricate beauty, realized through you.

Can you see your life, and the life of "Gary Childress," not as meaningless but as deeply embedded in the fabric of something vast, dynamic, and awe-inspiring?

If determinism is indeed the case, then I suppose one can get accustomed to it just as one can to many other facts of life. (You're a very good writer, BTW, Mike. Is this all you or do you get assistance from AI or something? Juding from it, you seem to have a good rational head on your shoulders.)

[BigMike]

Now, let’s address the claim that determinism reduces everything to inevitability, leaving us as passive passengers. This is a common misunderstanding. Determinism means that everything has a cause, but it doesn’t mean we lack agency. Instead, agency is part of the causal web. The human brain is an immensely complex system that processes inputs, generates outputs, and adapts over time. While this process is fully determined, it doesn’t feel reductive because it operates with such incredible sophistication.

But it is reductive, whether it "feels" so or not. We're not creating anything. We are literally on a ride that we are not controlling. Control is an illusion because if we could control anything (move something in any way other than what has been determined for it), then conservation laws would be broken. So called "consciousness" can do nothing, does nothing. Is consciousness even necessary? All this could happen without the existence of consciousness.

Gary, I hear your concerns, and they cut right to the heart of what many people grapple with when encountering determinism: this sense that it "reduces" life to a kind of mechanical inevitability. But this critique hinges on an implicit comparison—reducing from what? If we move away from metaphysical assumptions about autonomy or agency as some magical "extra," we find that the deterministic framework isn’t reductive; it’s expansive, revealing the interconnectedness and extraordinary complexity of life.

Let’s consider the ride analogy. Yes, determinism means everything is part of a causal web, including your thoughts and actions. But being on "the ride" doesn’t mean passivity. Thanks to the brain’s remarkable capacity for memory, learning, and adaptation, "being on the ride" includes integrating past experiences into future outcomes. The brain’s physical structure is shaped by the accumulation of these experiences, allowing us to reflect on prior "rides" and adjust behavior based on what we’ve learned. This isn’t some illusory freedom—it’s determinism in action, demonstrating the brain’s ability to participate dynamically in the causal web.

For instance, if a previous "ride" ended badly because of a poor choice (itself caused by specific factors), the memory of that experience may shape your future decisions. The brain's plasticity—its ability to change and adapt—means that even within a deterministic system, you are constantly evolving based on new inputs. This doesn’t break conservation laws; it operates entirely within them. It’s not about overriding causality but about leveraging it.

As for consciousness, its necessity lies in its function. Consciousness isn’t a driver outside the system; it’s an emergent property of the system itself. Think of it as the interface that allows an incredibly complex physical machine (the brain) to navigate its environment effectively. Without consciousness, the intricate processes that enable learning, memory, and planning wouldn’t work as seamlessly or efficiently. It’s like the dashboard in a car: it doesn’t make the car move, but it provides essential information for the system to function optimally.

What’s often overlooked is that this emergent "dashboard" allows us to experience life in ways that are profoundly rich and meaningful. It enables reflection, creativity, and relationships. Even though these arise from deterministic processes, they’re no less significant for being caused. In fact, recognizing their roots in causality can deepen our appreciation for how extraordinary these experiences are.

So, while it’s true that we aren’t "creating" anything from nothing—conservation laws ensure that—what we are doing is continually reshaping ourselves and the world around us based on the inputs we receive and the adaptations we make. This process is deterministic, but it’s far from reductive. It’s the reason humanity has progressed, learned, and thrived.

Consciousness, then, isn’t redundant—it’s integral to the system’s ability to adjust and respond to an ever-changing world. The ride isn’t static; it’s dynamic, evolving, and breathtakingly intricate. You’re not just "along for the ride" in some meaningless sense; you’re an active participant in a vast, interconnected web of causes and effects.

Does this help shift the perspective? Rather than seeing determinism as a mechanical reduction, can you see it as a framework that reveals the immense complexity and richness of being?

[BigMike]

Is there any "should" at all? We will or we won't depending upon the trajectory of the matter that comprises us, right? This is all a play that has already been written on a stage whose foundation has already been designed, like a movie script we are little more than actors who perform our pre-written lines and routines as they were assigned to each of us billions of years in advance. Is there any other choice? Is there any such thing as "choice" at all?

How depressing and pointless life now seems. Everything is "matter", and yet my mind now says nothing "matters". In a sense, there is no mind called Gary Childress that donated all his life savings to help a woman he loved get out of a financial jam. There was no Gary Childress who callously teased poor Kenneth Pirnat back in Elementar School. Gary Childress, as an author of his own life is simply a fiction. There is no "Gary Childress" the author of a book of poetry (indeed, Gary Childress did not write that book). I am little more than a collection of matter moving in the direction it has already been determined to travel. How depressing that seems.

Gary, your reflection is profoundly moving, and I can sense the weight of your introspection. The deterministic view can indeed feel daunting at first glance—it seems to strip away the romance of autonomy, the feeling of being the sole author of our stories. But I’d argue that there’s a way to see this framework not as bleak and dehumanizing, but as an opportunity to view life, and your own journey, in a profoundly interconnected and meaningful way.

You ask, “Is there any should at all?” From a deterministic standpoint, the answer isn’t as nihilistic as it might seem. "Should" exists within a practical and relational framework. While we may be products of causal chains, those chains include our values, our empathy, and our desires to make the world better for ourselves and others. When you helped a woman you loved, that wasn’t a hollow act just because it was determined—it was an expression of who you are, shaped by countless moments of compassion, love, and connection. Those moments aren’t diminished by their causes; they are enriched by them.

It’s also worth considering this: if everything is determined, then your sense of purpose, your creativity, and your relationships are as much a part of the causal web as the stars and planets. Saying “nothing matters” assumes that matter itself is devoid of meaning, but that’s not the case. Meaning isn’t some abstract, immaterial force—it’s an emergent property of the complex interactions that make up our lives. When you wrote your book of poetry, you captured your experience, your thoughts, and your emotions—deterministic, yes, but no less meaningful because they were rooted in the fabric of the universe.

Think of it this way: in a deterministic universe, your life isn’t diminished—it’s embedded in something far greater. Every interaction, every choice (yes, even choices, as part of deterministic processes) is a point of connection between you and the vast causal web of existence. When you callously teased Kenneth Pirnat in elementary school, you didn’t do so in a vacuum. You were shaped by the environment, the context, the emotions of a young Gary Childress. Similarly, when you gave your life savings to help someone, it wasn’t an empty act—it was a culmination of love, empathy, and countless influences that led you to care deeply for her well-being.

The story of Gary Childress, then, isn’t erased by determinism. It’s contextualized. You are not a solitary figure writing your story in isolation; you are part of a grand, interconnected narrative. Your life matters because it’s interwoven with the lives of others, with the systems and environments that shape us all. Far from being depressing, this understanding can deepen your appreciation for how extraordinary it is that you, Gary Childress, exist as a unique constellation of experiences and causes.

The deterministic view doesn’t take away the significance of your actions—it explains how they come to be, showing that they’re grounded in the rich complexity of reality. And if everything is determined, then so too is your drive to seek meaning, to create poetry, to love, and to reflect on your life. These aren’t illusions; they are profound expressions of the universe’s intricate beauty, realized through you.

Can you see your life, and the life of "Gary Childress," not as meaningless but as deeply embedded in the fabric of something vast, dynamic, and awe-inspiring?

If determinism is indeed the case, then I suppose one can get accustomed to it just as one can to many other facts of life. (You're a very good writer, BTW, Mike. Is this all you or do you get assistance from AI or something? Juding from it, you seem to have a good rational head on your shoulders.)

Gary, I appreciate your kind words about my writing, though I assure you it’s entirely my own work. There's been another 'discussion' floating around about whether I’m somehow AI or working with AI assistance, and I’ve honestly not bothered to respond to those baseless accusations because they miss the point entirely. The reason my arguments might sound solid or well-constructed is simple: they’re grounded in science—determinism, conservation laws, the four fundamental interactions, and the principles that flow from them. It’s not magic or mystery; it’s logic and evidence. That’s all there is to it.

If determinism is indeed the case (and the evidence strongly supports it), getting accustomed to it isn’t about resigning ourselves to inevitability; it’s about embracing the profound interconnectedness of the universe and understanding our place within it. You don’t lose meaning in that realization—you gain a clearer, richer sense of how extraordinary existence really is.

[phyllo]

If determinism is indeed the case, then I suppose one can get accustomed to it just as one can to many other facts of life.

There is nothing to get accustomed to, nothing has changed except someone has told you that you're supposed to think differently about what has always been.

The main problem with determinism is that people push a negative, fatalistic, dis-empowered attitude towards life. You ought to push back. That doesn't mean jumping blindly to free-will. It means having a positive attitude towards life as it is.

[BigMike]

If determinism is indeed the case, then I suppose one can get accustomed to it just as one can to many other facts of life.

There is nothing to get accustomed to, nothing has changed except someone has told you that you're supposed to think differently about what has always been.

The main problem with determinism is that people push a negative, fatalistic, dis-empowered attitude towards life. You ought to push back. That doesn't mean jumping blindly to free-will. It means having a positive attitude towards life as it is.

Phyllo, your response is misguided and patronizing. To suggest that determinism inherently pushes a "negative, fatalistic, dis-empowered attitude" is not only false but reveals a shallow understanding of the concept. Determinism isn’t about wallowing in fatalism or giving up on life—it’s about recognizing the intricate web of causality that underpins everything, including our capacity for growth, adaptation, and meaningful action.

Your statement that "nothing has changed" only underscores a lack of depth in engaging with what determinism actually entails. Determinism doesn’t ask us to "think differently" as some kind of philosophical fad—it describes the reality of how the universe operates. If you can’t distinguish between acknowledging that reality and adopting a defeatist attitude, that’s on you, not on determinism.

Finally, let’s not conflate a clear-eyed understanding of causation with some Pollyannaish “positive attitude” mantra. Determinism empowers us to focus on what can be changed—the conditions and systems that shape lives and outcomes—instead of wasting energy on assigning blame or indulging illusions of "free will." If you want to argue against determinism, bring something substantial to the table. Hollow appeals to "positivity" don’t cut it.

[seeds]

Each of these interactions governs exchanges between specific types of objects:

1. Gravity transfers momentum and energy between objects with mass. It doesn’t affect things without mass.
2. Electromagnetism operates between objects with charge, exchanging energy, momentum, and angular momentum through electric or magnetic forces.
3. The strong nuclear force binds the particles in atomic nuclei together.
4. The weak nuclear force governs certain types of particle decay and nuclear processes.

The crucial point is this: these interactions only occur between compatible objects. For example, gravity cannot affect something that has no mass,...

Wrong, BigMike.

Gravity has a profound effect, not only on the very fabric of space itself, but also on time, both of which are massless phenomena. Which, in turn, affects yet another massless phenomenon ---> light (photons).

Now, let’s bring this back to the mind, soul, or free will. If the mind, soul, or free will is truly non-physical—lacking mass, charge, or any of the properties that allow interaction with the physical world—then it cannot interact with the neurons in our brains or anything else in the physical world. It would be entirely cut off, like a ghost incapable of moving a single atom.

Yet, the "ghost in the meat machine,"...

(also known as the "thinker" of thoughts and the "dreamer" of dreams)

...which doesn't appear to have any of the "measurable properties" mentioned above (mass, charge, etc.), is nevertheless somehow able to move quadrillions of atoms by simply (and willfully) choosing to do this...


_______

[BigMike]

Each of these interactions governs exchanges between specific types of objects:

1. Gravity transfers momentum and energy between objects with mass. It doesn’t affect things without mass.
2. Electromagnetism operates between objects with charge, exchanging energy, momentum, and angular momentum through electric or magnetic forces.
3. The strong nuclear force binds the particles in atomic nuclei together.
4. The weak nuclear force governs certain types of particle decay and nuclear processes.

The crucial point is this: these interactions only occur between compatible objects. For example, gravity cannot affect something that has no mass,...

Wrong, BigMike.

Gravity has a profound effect, not only on the very fabric of space itself, but also on time, both of which are massless phenomena. Which, in turn, affects yet another massless phenomenon ---> light (photons).

Now, let’s bring this back to the mind, soul, or free will. If the mind, soul, or free will is truly non-physical—lacking mass, charge, or any of the properties that allow interaction with the physical world—then it cannot interact with the neurons in our brains or anything else in the physical world. It would be entirely cut off, like a ghost incapable of moving a single atom.

Yet, the "ghost in the meat machine,"...

(also known as the "thinker" of thoughts and the "dreamer" of dreams)

...which doesn't appear to have any of the "measurable properties" mentioned above (mass, charge, etc.), is nevertheless somehow able to move quadrillions of atoms by simply (and willfully) choosing to do this...


_______

Seeds, your attempt at a rebuttal is as misguided as it is self-assured. Let me break it down for you, though I suspect that won’t stop you from clinging to these ill-conceived notions.

First, gravity doesn’t affect spacetime or light in the way you’re implying. Spacetime is the framework within which gravity operates, and mass influences the curvature of spacetime. That’s not the same as “affecting” something like an object. Similarly, photons follow geodesics in curved spacetime—they’re not "affected" by gravity in a causal interaction sense. Your understanding is shallow and riddled with misconceptions.

Second, your romanticized notion of a "ghost in the meat machine" is exactly the kind of magical thinking that has no basis in science. If this so-called "thinker of thoughts" and "dreamer of dreams" is non-physical, as you claim, then explain how it interacts with the neurons in the brain. If it lacks mass, charge, or any measurable properties, it’s physically incapable of moving a single atom, let alone orchestrating complex thought and action. You don’t get to hand-wave with poetic metaphors and ignore basic physics.

If your argument is that this "ghost" doesn’t need to adhere to physical principles, then congratulations—you’ve left the realm of reason entirely. You’re invoking fantasy, not engaging in a serious discussion.

So let me ask you plainly: are you suggesting that this "ghost" operates outside the four fundamental interactions while still influencing the physical world? If so, where’s your evidence? Until you provide something more than pseudoscientific babble, your argument doesn’t merit serious consideration.

[Gary Childress]

Each of these interactions governs exchanges between specific types of objects:

1. Gravity transfers momentum and energy between objects with mass. It doesn’t affect things without mass.
2. Electromagnetism operates between objects with charge, exchanging energy, momentum, and angular momentum through electric or magnetic forces.
3. The strong nuclear force binds the particles in atomic nuclei together.
4. The weak nuclear force governs certain types of particle decay and nuclear processes.

The crucial point is this: these interactions only occur between compatible objects. For example, gravity cannot affect something that has no mass,...

Wrong, BigMike.

Gravity has a profound effect, not only on the very fabric of space itself, but also on time, both of which are massless phenomena. Which, in turn, affects yet another massless phenomenon ---> light (photons).

Now, let’s bring this back to the mind, soul, or free will. If the mind, soul, or free will is truly non-physical—lacking mass, charge, or any of the properties that allow interaction with the physical world—then it cannot interact with the neurons in our brains or anything else in the physical world. It would be entirely cut off, like a ghost incapable of moving a single atom.

Yet, the "ghost in the meat machine,"...

(also known as the "thinker" of thoughts and the "dreamer" of dreams)

...which doesn't appear to have any of the "measurable properties" mentioned above (mass, charge, etc.), is nevertheless somehow able to move quadrillions of atoms by simply (and willfully) choosing to do this...


_______

Seeds, your attempt at a rebuttal is as misguided as it is self-assured. Let me break it down for you, though I suspect that won’t stop you from clinging to these ill-conceived notions.

First, gravity doesn’t affect spacetime or light in the way you’re implying. Spacetime is the framework within which gravity operates, and mass influences the curvature of spacetime. That’s not the same as “affecting” something like an object. Similarly, photons follow geodesics in curved spacetime—they’re not "affected" by gravity in a causal interaction sense. Your understanding is shallow and riddled with misconceptions.

Second, your romanticized notion of a "ghost in the meat machine" is exactly the kind of magical thinking that has no basis in science. If this so-called "thinker of thoughts" and "dreamer of dreams" is non-physical, as you claim, then explain how it interacts with the neurons in the brain. If it lacks mass, charge, or any measurable properties, it’s physically incapable of moving a single atom, let alone orchestrating complex thought and action. You don’t get to hand-wave with poetic metaphors and ignore basic physics.

If your argument is that this "ghost" doesn’t need to adhere to physical principles, then congratulations—you’ve left the realm of reason entirely. You’re invoking fantasy, not engaging in a serious discussion.

So let me ask you plainly: are you suggesting that this "ghost" operates outside the four fundamental interactions while still influencing the physical world? If so, where’s your evidence? Until you provide something more than pseudoscientific babble, your argument doesn’t merit serious consideration.

I believe that I am conscious. I believe there is something special about being conscious. I believe that conscious beings feel pain when they are physically injured just as I do when I am physically injured. I believe that pain is something that I should not inflict on another human being if I can avoid doing so.

I do NOT believe that machines feel pain. I believe that a machine can be manipulated, used, contorted, destroyed and anything else that my will wishes, so long as I don't use it to inflict pain on another human being and so long as my treatment of the machine would not somehow harm my fellow humans in some unjustifiable way.

I believe that machines are made out of materials that do not feel anything. I believe that makes human beings somehow different and special from machines. I believe that human beings are not "machines".

Would you agree with what I've said above so far? Or am I in error about something in my statements above? And if I am in error, how would you reword it or say it differently?

[Age]

Is there any "should" at all? We will or we won't depending upon the trajectory of the matter that comprises us, right? This is all a play that has already been written on a stage whose foundation has already been designed, like a movie script we are little more than actors who perform our pre-written lines and routines as they were assigned to each of us billions of years in advance. Is there any other choice? Is there any such thing as "choice" at all?

How depressing and pointless life now seems. Everything is "matter", and yet my mind now says nothing "matters". In a sense, there is no mind called Gary Childress that donated all his life savings to help a woman he loved get out of a financial jam. There was no Gary Childress who callously teased poor Kenneth Pirnat back in Elementar School. Gary Childress, as an author of his own life is simply a fiction. There is no "Gary Childress" the author of a book of poetry (indeed, Gary Childress did not write that book). I am little more than a collection of matter moving in the direction it has already been determined to travel. How depressing that seems.

Gary, your reflection is profoundly moving, and I can sense the weight of your introspection. The deterministic view can indeed feel daunting at first glance—it seems to strip away the romance of autonomy, the feeling of being the sole author of our stories. But I’d argue that there’s a way to see this framework not as bleak and dehumanizing, but as an opportunity to view life, and your own journey, in a profoundly interconnected and meaningful way.

You ask, “Is there any should at all?” From a deterministic standpoint, the answer isn’t as nihilistic as it might seem. "Should" exists within a practical and relational framework. While we may be products of causal chains, those chains include our values, our empathy, and our desires to make the world better for ourselves and others. When you helped a woman you loved, that wasn’t a hollow act just because it was determined—it was an expression of who you are, shaped by countless moments of compassion, love, and connection. Those moments aren’t diminished by their causes; they are enriched by them.

It’s also worth considering this: if everything is determined, then your sense of purpose, your creativity, and your relationships are as much a part of the causal web as the stars and planets. Saying “nothing matters” assumes that matter itself is devoid of meaning, but that’s not the case. Meaning isn’t some abstract, immaterial force—it’s an emergent property of the complex interactions that make up our lives. When you wrote your book of poetry, you captured your experience, your thoughts, and your emotions—deterministic, yes, but no less meaningful because they were rooted in the fabric of the universe.

Think of it this way: in a deterministic universe, your life isn’t diminished—it’s embedded in something far greater. Every interaction, every choice (yes, even choices, as part of deterministic processes) is a point of connection between you and the vast causal web of existence. When you callously teased Kenneth Pirnat in elementary school, you didn’t do so in a vacuum. You were shaped by the environment, the context, the emotions of a young Gary Childress. Similarly, when you gave your life savings to help someone, it wasn’t an empty act—it was a culmination of love, empathy, and countless influences that led you to care deeply for her well-being.

The story of Gary Childress, then, isn’t erased by determinism. It’s contextualized. You are not a solitary figure writing your story in isolation; you are part of a grand, interconnected narrative. Your life matters because it’s interwoven with the lives of others, with the systems and environments that shape us all. Far from being depressing, this understanding can deepen your appreciation for how extraordinary it is that you, Gary Childress, exist as a unique constellation of experiences and causes.

The deterministic view doesn’t take away the significance of your actions—it explains how they come to be, showing that they’re grounded in the rich complexity of reality. And if everything is determined, then so too is your drive to seek meaning, to create poetry, to love, and to reflect on your life. These aren’t illusions; they are profound expressions of the universe’s intricate beauty, realized through you.

Can you see your life, and the life of "Gary Childress," not as meaningless but as deeply embedded in the fabric of something vast, dynamic, and awe-inspiring?

If determinism is indeed the case, then I suppose one can get accustomed to it just as one can to many other facts of life. (You're a very good writer, BTW, Mike. Is this all you or do you get assistance from AI or something? Juding from it, you seem to have a good rational head on your shoulders.)

"bigmike's" responses really do have an 'uncanny resemblance' to 'the way' that 'artificial intelligence' responds. So, great observation and good pick up, here, "gary childress". First 'they' 'butter up', as some might say, 'the interlocutor', then 'they' proceed.

[Age]

Each of these interactions governs exchanges between specific types of objects:

1. Gravity transfers momentum and energy between objects with mass. It doesn’t affect things without mass.
2. Electromagnetism operates between objects with charge, exchanging energy, momentum, and angular momentum through electric or magnetic forces.
3. The strong nuclear force binds the particles in atomic nuclei together.
4. The weak nuclear force governs certain types of particle decay and nuclear processes.

The crucial point is this: these interactions only occur between compatible objects. For example, gravity cannot affect something that has no mass,...

Wrong, BigMike.

Gravity has a profound effect, not only on the very fabric of space itself, but also on time, both of which are massless phenomena. Which, in turn, affects yet another massless phenomenon ---> light (photons).

Now, let’s bring this back to the mind, soul, or free will. If the mind, soul, or free will is truly non-physical—lacking mass, charge, or any of the properties that allow interaction with the physical world—then it cannot interact with the neurons in our brains or anything else in the physical world. It would be entirely cut off, like a ghost incapable of moving a single atom.

Yet, the "ghost in the meat machine,"...

(also known as the "thinker" of thoughts and the "dreamer" of dreams)

...which doesn't appear to have any of the "measurable properties" mentioned above (mass, charge, etc.), is nevertheless somehow able to move quadrillions of atoms by simply (and willfully) choosing to do this...


_______

Seeds, your attempt at a rebuttal is as misguided as it is self-assured. Let me break it down for you, though I suspect that won’t stop you from clinging to these ill-conceived notions.

First, gravity doesn’t affect spacetime or light in the way you’re implying. Spacetime is the framework within which gravity operates, and mass influences the curvature of spacetime. That’s not the same as “affecting” something like an object. Similarly, photons follow geodesics in curved spacetime—they’re not "affected" by gravity in a causal interaction sense. Your understanding is shallow and riddled with misconceptions.

Second, your romanticized notion of a "ghost in the meat machine" is exactly the kind of magical thinking that has no basis in science. If this so-called "thinker of thoughts" and "dreamer of dreams" is non-physical, as you claim, then explain how it interacts with the neurons in the brain. If it lacks mass, charge, or any measurable properties, it’s physically incapable of moving a single atom, let alone orchestrating complex thought and action. You don’t get to hand-wave with poetic metaphors and ignore basic physics.

If your argument is that this "ghost" doesn’t need to adhere to physical principles, then congratulations—you’ve left the realm of reason entirely. You’re invoking fantasy, not engaging in a serious discussion.

So let me ask you plainly: are you suggesting that this "ghost" operates outside the four fundamental interactions while still influencing the physical world? If so, where’s your evidence? Until you provide something more than pseudoscientific babble, your argument doesn’t merit serious consideration.

What can be SEEN, here, VERY CLEARLY , is how these two have been MANIPULATED.

Now, if they 'should' WORRY ABOUT 'manipulation', or not, would obviously depend on HOW they have, already, been MANIPULATED.

Anyway, to me, 'worrying' ABOUT 'manipulation' is NOT going to HELP ANY thing. However, 'they', and 'you', 'could' BE MORE OBSERVANT and BE MORE CAREFUL ABOUT NOT 'getting manipulated', like these two, here, OBVIOUSLY HAVE.

[BigMike]

Wrong, BigMike.

Gravity has a profound effect, not only on the very fabric of space itself, but also on time, both of which are massless phenomena. Which, in turn, affects yet another massless phenomenon ---> light (photons).


Yet, the "ghost in the meat machine,"...

(also known as the "thinker" of thoughts and the "dreamer" of dreams)

...which doesn't appear to have any of the "measurable properties" mentioned above (mass, charge, etc.), is nevertheless somehow able to move quadrillions of atoms by simply (and willfully) choosing to do this...


_______

Seeds, your attempt at a rebuttal is as misguided as it is self-assured. Let me break it down for you, though I suspect that won’t stop you from clinging to these ill-conceived notions.

First, gravity doesn’t affect spacetime or light in the way you’re implying. Spacetime is the framework within which gravity operates, and mass influences the curvature of spacetime. That’s not the same as “affecting” something like an object. Similarly, photons follow geodesics in curved spacetime—they’re not "affected" by gravity in a causal interaction sense. Your understanding is shallow and riddled with misconceptions.

Second, your romanticized notion of a "ghost in the meat machine" is exactly the kind of magical thinking that has no basis in science. If this so-called "thinker of thoughts" and "dreamer of dreams" is non-physical, as you claim, then explain how it interacts with the neurons in the brain. If it lacks mass, charge, or any measurable properties, it’s physically incapable of moving a single atom, let alone orchestrating complex thought and action. You don’t get to hand-wave with poetic metaphors and ignore basic physics.

If your argument is that this "ghost" doesn’t need to adhere to physical principles, then congratulations—you’ve left the realm of reason entirely. You’re invoking fantasy, not engaging in a serious discussion.

So let me ask you plainly: are you suggesting that this "ghost" operates outside the four fundamental interactions while still influencing the physical world? If so, where’s your evidence? Until you provide something more than pseudoscientific babble, your argument doesn’t merit serious consideration.

I believe that I am conscious. I believe there is something special about being conscious. I believe that conscious beings feel pain when they are physically injured just as I do when I am physically injured. I believe that pain is something that I should not inflict on another human being if I can avoid doing so.

I do NOT believe that machines feel pain. I believe that a machine can be manipulated, used, contorted, destroyed and anything else that my will wishes, so long as I don't use it to inflict pain on another human being and so long as my treatment of the machine would not somehow harm my fellow humans in some unjustifiable way.

I believe that machines are made out of materials that do not feel anything. I believe that makes human beings somehow different and special from machines. I believe that human beings are not "machines".

Would you agree with what I've said above so far? Or am I in error about something in my statements above? And if I am in error, how would you reword it or say it differently?

Gary, I understand your sentiments, but I’d like to unpack this a little and clarify where your assumptions might need adjustment, particularly regarding consciousness and its relationship to the physical.

First, consciousness doesn’t have to be seen as something mystical or outside the physical realm. There’s overwhelming evidence tying conscious experience to physical processes in the brain. The effects of brain damage, anesthesia, or intoxication show that altering physical structures or chemical balances in the brain profoundly impacts consciousness. This strongly suggests that consciousness arises from, and is dependent on, physical interactions. In other words, consciousness is a product of a highly complex machine—our brain—not something fundamentally separate from it.

Now, on the point about machines and pain: Machines don’t feel pain, not because they are inherently incapable, but because they weren’t designed or evolved to experience it. Pain, in humans and other animals, is an adaptive mechanism—it evolved to help organisms survive by avoiding harm. Machines, by contrast, are created to perform tasks; they lack the evolutionary imperative to experience suffering. If one day we designed machines with the right sensory and processing systems to simulate or even experience something akin to pain, the ethical considerations around their treatment would necessarily shift.

Humans are indeed different from current machines, but not because we’re somehow above or beyond being mechanical. Instead, we’re vastly more complex. The human body, including the brain, operates through physical principles—chemical reactions, electrical impulses, and mechanical processes. Our complexity doesn’t make us less mechanical; it makes us a highly advanced machine shaped by billions of years of evolution.

So, I’d tweak your statement like this: Human beings are special not because we transcend physicality, but because our biology enables experiences like pain, love, and creativity. These aren’t mystical phenomena—they’re the emergent properties of an extraordinarily intricate system operating within the laws of nature.

Would you agree that seeing consciousness as a physical phenomenon doesn’t diminish its value but rather deepens our appreciation of how extraordinary it is?

[Gary Childress]

Seeds, your attempt at a rebuttal is as misguided as it is self-assured. Let me break it down for you, though I suspect that won’t stop you from clinging to these ill-conceived notions.

First, gravity doesn’t affect spacetime or light in the way you’re implying. Spacetime is the framework within which gravity operates, and mass influences the curvature of spacetime. That’s not the same as “affecting” something like an object. Similarly, photons follow geodesics in curved spacetime—they’re not "affected" by gravity in a causal interaction sense. Your understanding is shallow and riddled with misconceptions.

Second, your romanticized notion of a "ghost in the meat machine" is exactly the kind of magical thinking that has no basis in science. If this so-called "thinker of thoughts" and "dreamer of dreams" is non-physical, as you claim, then explain how it interacts with the neurons in the brain. If it lacks mass, charge, or any measurable properties, it’s physically incapable of moving a single atom, let alone orchestrating complex thought and action. You don’t get to hand-wave with poetic metaphors and ignore basic physics.

If your argument is that this "ghost" doesn’t need to adhere to physical principles, then congratulations—you’ve left the realm of reason entirely. You’re invoking fantasy, not engaging in a serious discussion.

So let me ask you plainly: are you suggesting that this "ghost" operates outside the four fundamental interactions while still influencing the physical world? If so, where’s your evidence? Until you provide something more than pseudoscientific babble, your argument doesn’t merit serious consideration.

I believe that I am conscious. I believe there is something special about being conscious. I believe that conscious beings feel pain when they are physically injured just as I do when I am physically injured. I believe that pain is something that I should not inflict on another human being if I can avoid doing so.

I do NOT believe that machines feel pain. I believe that a machine can be manipulated, used, contorted, destroyed and anything else that my will wishes, so long as I don't use it to inflict pain on another human being and so long as my treatment of the machine would not somehow harm my fellow humans in some unjustifiable way.

I believe that machines are made out of materials that do not feel anything. I believe that makes human beings somehow different and special from machines. I believe that human beings are not "machines".

Would you agree with what I've said above so far? Or am I in error about something in my statements above? And if I am in error, how would you reword it or say it differently?

Gary, I understand your sentiments, but I’d like to unpack this a little and clarify where your assumptions might need adjustment, particularly regarding consciousness and its relationship to the physical.

First, consciousness doesn’t have to be seen as something mystical or outside the physical realm. There’s overwhelming evidence tying conscious experience to physical processes in the brain. The effects of brain damage, anesthesia, or intoxication show that altering physical structures or chemical balances in the brain profoundly impacts consciousness. This strongly suggests that consciousness arises from, and is dependent on, physical interactions. In other words, consciousness is a product of a highly complex machine—our brain—not something fundamentally separate from it.

Now, on the point about machines and pain: Machines don’t feel pain, not because they are inherently incapable, but because they weren’t designed or evolved to experience it. Pain, in humans and other animals, is an adaptive mechanism—it evolved to help organisms survive by avoiding harm. Machines, by contrast, are created to perform tasks; they lack the evolutionary imperative to experience suffering. If one day we designed machines with the right sensory and processing systems to simulate or even experience something akin to pain, the ethical considerations around their treatment would necessarily shift.

Humans are indeed different from current machines, but not because we’re somehow above or beyond being mechanical. Instead, we’re vastly more complex. The human body, including the brain, operates through physical principles—chemical reactions, electrical impulses, and mechanical processes. Our complexity doesn’t make us less mechanical; it makes us a highly advanced machine shaped by billions of years of evolution.

So, I’d tweak your statement like this: Human beings are special not because we transcend physicality, but because our biology enables experiences like pain, love, and creativity. These aren’t mystical phenomena—they’re the emergent properties of an extraordinarily intricate system operating within the laws of nature.

Would you agree that seeing consciousness as a physical phenomenon doesn’t diminish its value but rather deepens our appreciation of how extraordinary it is?

OK. So I did not say that consciousness was "mystical". I said it made humans special over machines. I said it sets us apart from machines. Do you disagree with that statement?

As far as "outside the physical realm", I would say that a human being lives very much within the physical realm. So again, I'm not seeing a problem with my words unless you are reading into them something I did not say.

1) What evidence do you have that suggests machines can be made to feel physical pain just as humans and (presumably many other living beings) do?

2) Why would you think that a machine can feel pain?

3) Or maybe you could unpack your statement a bit, what are you defining as a "machine"? I define a "machine" as a tool that humans use to improve our own lives and perhaps even those of other living beings if we can. If something feels things, then it is not a "machine". If something is conscious, then it is not a "machine". Do you disagree?

[BigMike]

Gary, I understand your sentiments, but I’d like to unpack this a little and clarify where your assumptions might need adjustment, particularly regarding consciousness and its relationship to the physical.

First, consciousness doesn’t have to be seen as something mystical or outside the physical realm. There’s overwhelming evidence tying conscious experience to physical processes in the brain. The effects of brain damage, anesthesia, or intoxication show that altering physical structures or chemical balances in the brain profoundly impacts consciousness. This strongly suggests that consciousness arises from, and is dependent on, physical interactions. In other words, consciousness is a product of a highly complex machine—our brain—not something fundamentally separate from it.

Now, on the point about machines and pain: Machines don’t feel pain, not because they are inherently incapable, but because they weren’t designed or evolved to experience it. Pain, in humans and other animals, is an adaptive mechanism—it evolved to help organisms survive by avoiding harm. Machines, by contrast, are created to perform tasks; they lack the evolutionary imperative to experience suffering. If one day we designed machines with the right sensory and processing systems to simulate or even experience something akin to pain, the ethical considerations around their treatment would necessarily shift.

Humans are indeed different from current machines, but not because we’re somehow above or beyond being mechanical. Instead, we’re vastly more complex. The human body, including the brain, operates through physical principles—chemical reactions, electrical impulses, and mechanical processes. Our complexity doesn’t make us less mechanical; it makes us a highly advanced machine shaped by billions of years of evolution.

So, I’d tweak your statement like this: Human beings are special not because we transcend physicality, but because our biology enables experiences like pain, love, and creativity. These aren’t mystical phenomena—they’re the emergent properties of an extraordinarily intricate system operating within the laws of nature.

Would you agree that seeing consciousness as a physical phenomenon doesn’t diminish its value but rather deepens our appreciation of how extraordinary it is?

OK. So I did not say that consciousness was "mystical". I said it made humans special over machines. I said it sets us apart from machines. Do you disagree with that statement?

As far as "outside the physical realm", I would say that a human being lives very much within the physical realm. So again, I'm not seeing a problem with my words unless you are reading into them something I did not say.

1) What evidence do you have that suggests machines can be made to feel physical pain just as humans and (presumably many other living beings) do?

2) Why would you think that a machine can feel pain?

3) Or maybe you could unpack your statement a bit, what are you defining as a "machine"? I define a "machine" as a tool that humans use to improve our own lives and perhaps even those of other living beings if we can. If something feels things, then it is not a "machine". If something is conscious, then it is not a "machine". Do you disagree?

Gary, I appreciate your clarifications, and it seems we’re converging on some shared ideas while differing on how we frame them. Let me address your points directly.

Consciousness certainly makes humans and other sentient beings unique compared to machines, as we currently define them. Where we might diverge is in what "special" means. I don’t dispute that consciousness is extraordinary; I’m arguing that its emergence doesn’t require us to step outside the physical realm or deny our mechanistic nature. Consciousness is the result of incredibly intricate physical processes. It’s a hallmark of evolution, not a mystical exception.

Regarding machines and pain, my point wasn’t to claim that machines currently feel pain. They don’t. Machines, as designed today, are tools—they lack the evolved neural frameworks that generate pain as a survival mechanism. However, if one day we create artificial systems complex enough to simulate or replicate the processes underlying pain—complete with the subjective experience of suffering—then we’d face new ethical considerations about their treatment. This isn’t a prediction but a logical extension of understanding how biological systems work.

When you define a "machine" as a tool humans use to improve life, it’s a functional and practical definition, and I wouldn’t argue against its utility. But in a broader sense, humans themselves operate mechanically. Our cells, organs, and even thoughts follow physical laws. What makes us unique is the complexity and self-awareness enabled by that machinery—not some fundamental difference from it.

To answer your questions: the evidence supporting the possibility of machines experiencing something akin to pain lies in our growing understanding of consciousness as a product of physical processes. If we replicate the necessary conditions—whether in biological or synthetic systems—we could theoretically create something that experiences. This doesn’t diminish human consciousness; it highlights how remarkable physical systems can be when they reach a certain level of complexity.

Would you agree, then, that our distinctiveness comes not from being outside the realm of machinery but from the astonishing complexity and refinement of our "machine"?