An argument against the Many Worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics

I was just watching a new video by Sabine Hossenfelder about the many worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, and I had an idea for an argument against Many Worlds. This argument is based on my flimsy understanding of physics, so take it with a grain of salt.

The many worlds interpretation is based on the idea that the wave function of a particle is real, and it never collapses. The wave function describes the movement of subatomic particles (like electrons) over time, and it gives you a probability distribution of where you should expect to find the particle if you were to try to measure it. You can observe the wave-like nature of particles using the double slit experiment. If you shoot a laser of photons or a beam of electrons through a double slit, it produces an interference pattern on the other side, which is what you would expect if there were a wave.

But the individual photons or electrons hit the wall in one particular spot. In the Copenhagen interpretation, this is understood to mean that the wave of probability collapsed to one particular result. Whereas the probability of where an electron might hit the wall is described by the wave function, it actually only hits in that one spot.

In the many worlds interpretation, though, the wave function doesn't collapse. Instead, the electron actually does hit the wall in each spot where it's possible it could have hit. This is possible because for each possibility, there is a branching universe in which it happens. We observe it hitting the wall in one spot because we're only in one of those branches at a time.

Since there's an interference pattern on the wall, that means there will be more branching universes in which the electron hits within the peaks of the probability distribution than in the valleys.

Since there is a branching universe with every possible outcome of every subatomic particle (including photons) in the universe, there are an unfathomable number of universes being generated each moment. For every possible scenario that could happen, given the laws of quantum mechanics, there is a branching universe in which it does happen.

If you take the many worlds interpetation seriously, you can have a lot of fun thinking about the other branching worlds that exist. In some of them, you are wildly successful because you made all the right decisions. In others, you've already been eaten by a bear. In several of them, you are Batman.

It's crazier than that, though. It also means that what we might usually think of as a miracle could happen purely by natural means. If the subatomic particles of a dead person could take a path resulting in them being rearranged in such a way as to cause the person to be alive, then a person could rise from the dead purely by natural means. It wouldn't be a miracle, but it would look like a miracle. It would be a wildly unlikely scenario, but since the location of each particle necessary to make the person alive exists somewhere in the probability distribution, and the wave function never collapses, then there are definitely worlds in which dead people come to life. Maybe this is one of them.

Now, let me get to the argument I came up with. If the wave function never collapses, and there's a different world for every possible outcome of every particle in the universe, then we should expect there to be a lot more universes in which the subatomic particles all randomly move in such a way as to kill us. I mean if my body kind of disintegrates because every particle went the wrong way, I would die. It seems more likely that given all the possibilities, there are more possibilities in which I die than in which I continue to live. Since I'm still alive, does this cast doubt on many worlds?

One response might be to invoke an observer selection effect. I can only observe worlds in which I live, so the fact that I'm not dead doesn't tell me anything. I would have to be in one of the rare worlds in which I live to be thinking about this.

But what about everybody else? Granted, I must be alive in a world in which I'm thinking about this, the same thing doesn't apply to everybody else. Shouldn't I observe a world in which I'm alive, but people are dropping like flies all around me? The fact that they aren't suggests that many worlds is probably not true.

As I was watching Sabine's video, I saw what might be the clue to a flaw in this argument. She made a distinction between a path integral and a measurement. She said the many worlds interpretation is about measurement outcomes, not path integrals. My argument kind of assumes the path integrals are spread out along a probability distribution.

But it seems to me that path integrals and measurement outcomes are related. If an electron hits the wall at a specific location, doesn't that tell you something about its path integral? It had to travel along some path to get there.

I don't know. I suspect there's something wrong with my argument, but I'm not sure what it is. Maybe the problem is in misunderstanding what a measurement even means. I take measurement to refer to causal interaction. When an electron hits the wall, that's essentially a measurement because it collapses to one specific result. So if the subatomic particles in our bodies are interacting with each other, they should be collapsing to specific locations all the time.

But I don't know. Electrons in orbitals seem to fill the orbitals. The whole reason they occupy spread out space, rather than specific points, is because they have wave functions. As I mentioned in a different post, the size of an electron is defined by its Compton wavelength. If they are waves, they can only exist in specific energy levels, just like how a guitar string can vibrate in different specific harmonics, but not just any-ole-where. An electron can only exist in specific orbitals, but not between them any-ole-where. So if electrons are in their wave-like states around all the atoms in my body, rather than some specific location, that seems to suggest that their wave functions are not collapsing, and they are not being "measured." If so, that would undermine my whole argument. Maybe that's why I'm wrong. I don't know, though.

Anywho, check out Sabine's video, but don't read the comment section. There's a lot of nonsense going on there. And yes, I do see the irony in that statement.

Edit (11/5/2023): I have decided this argument is completely flawed. If what I argued here were true, you wouldn't even need there to be a multiverse before you should expect people to be dropping like flies all around you. On the many worlds interpretation, many worlds exist, but you only observe one. The one you observe is every bit as random as the many others you might have observed. So even without all those worlds actually existing, people should be dropping like flies all around you because your path through life takes you through many random outcomes. If the mere randomness of the outcomes is enough to put our lives into jeopardy, then your life would be just as much in jeopardy under the Copenhagen interpretation. If we have nothing to fear from random quantum events on the Copenhagen interpretation, then we should have nothing to fear from the randomness of which world you happen to live in under the many worlds interpretation.

What would Superman do?

I've been thinking for a long time about writing a fan fiction for Superman. In the fanfiction, Superman comes to the realization that he could save more lives if he went into the medical field than he could using his superior strength and speed. By using his x-ray vision, he can quickly and efficiently diagnose people with cancer, blood clots, and all kinds of other things. He would become an expert surgeon, too, knowing exactly where the problem lies and being able to see it clearly. So he goes to medical school.

In the past, I've used fan fictions to fulfill wishes I've had about stories. In the case of Superman, I've come up with all kinds of things he could do that he hasn't done in other Superman stories. Here's a few of them:

1. He could go camping anywhere in Alaska or Yellowstone for as long as he wants and not worry about being eaten by a bear.

2. He could walk all the way across Africa, from the north down to the southern tip, and never worry about being eaten by a lion, gored by a buffalo, or killed by a warlord. Mosquitos couldn't even harm him.

3. He could fly to various moons, planets, and astroids in the solar system to gather samples for scientists. Or he could take video and do other kinds of research that are difficult or impossible for us to do now with our technology and the money it takes to do it.

4. He could perform repairs and upgrades to satelites and space telescopes. He could deliver satelites and telescopes to space for a lot less than what it costs with rockets. And since he's not limited by the rocket equation, engineers would have a lot more flexibility in what they could put into space. They could make an even bigger space telescope. Superman could take it to space and oversee its deployment to make sure everything goes smoothly.

5. He could transport materials and help build a space station on the moon, Mars, or just someplace in earth's orbit. I've always thought it would be cool if we could build spaceships in space. Superman could deliver the materials and supplies.

6. He could provide propulsion for a spaceship to take humans to Mars or wherever. It wouldn't matter how big the spaceship was, either. That means you could cover the spaceship in shielding to protect the astronauts from radiation without having to worry about the added weight. Plus, Superman could get them there faster. He could possibly provide them with artificial gravity by accelerating at a constant rate for half the trip, then decelerating at a constant rate for the rest of the trip. Or he could just spin it.

7. He could find your keys or pretty much anything you've lost using his x-ray vision.

8. He could be a blacksmith or a bladesmith. He could heat the steel up with his laser beam eyes and sculpt the hot steel with his bare hands. He wouldn't need a forge, an anvil, or hammers. He could sculpt hot steel like it was a piece of clay.

There are just all kinds of things Superman could do. He could be a construction worker and elminate the need for cranes or heavy equipment in a lot of cases. He could help build bridges or underground tunnels. There's no reason for Superman to ever be unemployed unless he wants to be.

What would you have Superman do? Or what would you do if you were Superman?

Apologetics: practical vs. theoretical knowledge

A note from the author (11/5/2023): I originally wrote this back in September. I took it down because I was afraid it might be too negative and sound like I was attacking other apologists. Truth be told, I was a little annoyed when I wrote it. But I just re-read it and decided it's worth posting after all. So here you go.

Knowledge of what is is different than knowledge of how to. Unfortunately, there are a lot of people who want to make a living by giving advice to other people on how to without having a lot practical experience.

If you want advice from somebody about how to invest in the stock market, you should talk to somebody who has been successfully investing in the stock market for a long time. You shouldn't go to somebody who has only read a lot of books about investing or taken college classes on investing but hasn't actually put that knowledge into practice.

Would you want to learn how to do brain surgery from somebody who had never performed a brain surgery but who had only read about it or came up with what he thought was a great idea? Would you want fishing advice from somebody who has only watched fishing shows on TV but has never gone fishing?

If you want parenting advice, you should go to somebody who has succesfully raised good, moral, well-adjusted, and successful children. I don't care if somebody has a PhD in psychology. If they haven't successfully raised children of their own, then their knowledge is only theoretical. It doesn't necessarily mean they have nothing to contribute, but they are not the best person to go to for advice, especially if you have access to somebody with real experience who has been successful.

Speaking of which, Brett and Erin Kunkle are the real deal.

The internet is full of people who want to give life advice, relationship advice, and all sorts of advice, but haven't lived long enough or had enough experience to really be qualified. Just today I stumbled across a 25 year old kid who called himself a life coach. That is ridiculous. He may have gained some insight from people who mentored him or from the short life he has lived, and maybe he has something to offer, but nobody should go to somebody that age for life advice. He doesn't have enough life experience to justify putting himself in that kind of position. If you want a life coach, go to somebody in their 60's or older, who has already lived out the majority of their lives. And go to somebody who has done so succesfully--who has had good relationships, done well in life, and is thriving.

Everything I've said so far is leading up to the real point I want to make in this blog post. There are a lot of people who are trying to make a living by being professional apologists. Apologetics is about defending your worldview, your beliefs, or whatever cause you want to promote. There are some apologists who actually do that, but many of them don't. Instead, they make their living by teaching apologetics to others. Their audience is other Christians, and they insulate themselves from real criticism.

The problem is that unless they have real world experience defending their beliefs and interacting with people who disagree with them, and unless they have had success in doing so, they aren't qualified to teach others how to defend their faith. A lot of people think they are qualified to teach because they've read a lot of books, watched a lot of lectures and debates, and they have developed a lot of theoretical knowledge. Theoretical knowledge is important, but it's not adequate to being a good apologist. Being a good apologist is something you learn by being in the trenches, dialoging with people, finding out what's pursuasive and what isn't, getting feedback from critics, etc. There's a trial and error aspect to communicating. As you go back and forth with people, you find out where your weaknesses lie. You may have weaknesses in communicating clearly, or you may have weaknesses in the content of your defense. You may have all the right answers and all the best arguments which you learned from books, but you are unable to have a productive conversation with people because they won't listen to you, or you can't control your emotions, you lack the people skills necessary to keep people interested, or you dont know how to communicate your knowledge in an accessible way.

This is something I've been thinking about for a few years. Since I have social anxiety, I don't engage in apologetics much in real life. Most of my interactions happen on the internet. They have happened on this blog, other people's blogs, and on YouTube, but the vast majority of it has happened on discussion forums. A few years ago, I was pretty active on Reddit. The longer I was there, the more I started noticing that I was mostly all alone. There were a few Christians trying to do apologetics on there, but I didn't see many people who were really good at it--who knew there stuff, were articulate, could respond well to objections, and could engage hostile people with grace and maturity. I began to wonder, "Where is everybody?" That's when I started thinking about this. There are a lot of people who presume to teach others how to defend their faith, but they aren't in the trenches doing it themselves. They are doing apologetics without an opponent.

I believe you can learn something from anybody. Everybody knows something, and most people know something most other people don't. But if you are going to seek out people to learn from, seek out people who know what they're talking about. If you want to learn how to defend your faith, learn from people who actually defend their faith, who listen to what their critics say, and who respond to their critics. And seek out, especially, people who are successful at it.

That last part is the hard to define, though. How do we measure success? At what point can we say that our apologetic method is effective? Success and effectiveness can be measured in different ways. A Christian can be considered successful if they were obedient in sharing the gospel even if nobody converts. Success is measured by their obedience and in overcoming whatever fear and anxiety they had about sharing the gospel. Success can also be measured by whether you got your point across in a way the other person could understand, even if the other person doesn't agree. Success can be measured by whether you maintained civility when dialoging with somebody about a controversial and emotionally charged subject. In the case of formal debates, success can be measured by your win rate. Yes, as crass as that may sound, that's how you measure success in debating. When it comes to apologetics, the purpose is to persuade, and the primary way we ought to measure the effectiveness of our apologetic is by whether it successfully persuades others.

By that criteria we might as well admit that most of us are not effective at all. In that last 25 years, there have been maybe a handful of times when somebody has contacted me and told me I changed their mind about something. But aside from somebody telling you that, you probably have no idea how many people you have influenced. People can be influenced who were just on the sidelines watching.

I have been talking so far about effectiveness in "doing apologetics," and by "doing apologetics," I mean communicating reasons to think your point of view is true to other people and responding to their questions and objections. Doing apologetics well requires having a good vocabulary, having good communication skills, having good people skills, and having some degree of cleverness. However, you can't even get off the ground if you don't have some knowledge. By stressing practical knowledge, I do not at all mean to diminish the necessity of theoretical knowledge.

In the case of theoretical knowledge, though, you should be mindful of who you go to for information. Do you go to your dentist for advice on how to fix your car? Do you go to your mechanic for dietary advice? Do you go to a doctor for legal advice or a lawyer for medical advice? If you want good theoretical knowledge, you should go to people who are experts in the subject you are interested in.

Apologetics is a multisciplinary field. It draws from other fields like history, science, philosophy, and theology. There are some apologists who are experts in one of these fields. William Lane Craig, for example, is an expert in philosophy. But most professional apologists are not experts in any particular field, and they quite frequently butcher some of the subjects they address in their literature and talks. I'm not saying you shouldn't bother reading apologetics literature at all. I think you should if you want to get into apologetics. What I am saying, rather, is that you should not rely solely on apologists for your information about science, philosophy, history, or theology. If you want to master some subject in apologetics that involves cosmology, then you should read literature from actual cosmologists. If you want to master historical arguments about Jesus, you should read literature from professional New Testament historians.

You shouldn't just read literature from people who agree with you either. If you were to get a PhD in physics, you'd be forced to read literature from people who subscribe to string theory and people who reject string theory. If you want to get a PhD in ethics, you'll be forced to read literature from people who subscribe to consequentialism and people who reject consequentialism. Part of becoming educated in a particular subject involves hearing all the voices of all the people who are experts in that field. If you want to become a good competent apologist, you should strive to become as well-equipped as you can on whatever subject in apologetics you want to specialize in. It's good to know a little bit about everything, but realistically, you're never going to be an expert on everything.

My advice is only aimed at those who want to excel at apologetics. If you want to dip your toe in, sure, just read a few apologetics books. But if you want to become a good apologist, you need to be mindful about who you learn from. When it comes to theoretical knowledge, go to people who are experts in their field. Think of apologetics books as introductions to various topics, not as authoritative sources. When it comes to practical knowledge, go to people who are actually engaging in apologetics and doing it well, not people who are simply teaching other people to do apologetics without doing it themselves. And by "doing it," I don't mean just writing blog posts or books or making youtube videos. I mean interacting with people who disagree with them, subjecting their arguments to scrutiny. And if you decide you want to become a professional apologist (i.e. make a living at it), please don't become somebody who does apologetics without an opponent. If you do, you will be doing yourself and your audience a disservice.

"The first to present his case seems right, till another comes forward and questions him." Proverbs 18:17

Did Paul really perform miracles?

Yes, probably. You can go now.

Seriously, though. . .the book of Acts says that Paul performed multiple miracles, but it's easy to see why somebody might be skeptical. However, there are some things Paul wrote in his own letters that aren't as easy to deny.

I'm not just talking about a situation in which Paul says he did a miracle or that he witnessed a miracle. That, too, would be easy to deny. We could just say Paul tells tall tales. Instead, I'm talking about a situation in which Paul claims to have done a miracle that his audience witnessed.

For example, in 2 Corinthians 12, Paul was defending his apostleship. He talked about these grand visions he had and how God gave him a thorn in his flesh to keep him humble. He says that he is not inferior to other apostles, then follows it by saying, "The distinguishing marks of a true apostle were performed among you with all perseverance, by signs, wonders, and miracles" (2 Corinthians 12:12).

That is pretty crazy, if you think about it. Whereas anybody might just make up a story they hope their audience will believe, Paul is reminding his audience of something they are in a position to know about. He's claiming they saw it themselves. They would know whether that was true or not. If it wasn't, we should expect them to think, "What on earth is he talking about?" And we wouldn't expect Paul to say something like that if he knew they knew it wasn't true.

If Paul was lying, then that's some major gaslighting.

If Paul is telling the truth, as he almost certainly was, then what sort of an event might he have been talking about? One possibility is that Paul's signs and wonders are no different than what we see in a lot of charismatic churches today. There's little evidence that anything miraculous is taking place, but people seem to think the Holy Spirit is healing people, casting out demons, knocking them down, making them speak in tongues, etc. There's a lot of silliness and hysteria that goes on in some charismatic churches. There's probably nothing miraculous going on most of the time, but people do believe there is. Maybe something like that is what Paul is referring to.

That seems unlikely, though. In the case of these charismatic churches, the hysteria and belief people have about these faith healers and word-faith preachers is the result of them already being converted to the worldview, and them having their expectations up. It's different in Paul's case because it looks like, from other passages, that it was common for Paul to use signs and wonders in his evangelism. He was in the process of converting people who did not already believe.

There are a handful of places where Paul reminds his audiences that he is not a good speaker. He expects his audience to already know this. He attributes their conversion to the power of Holy Spirit rather than the pursuasive power of his words. For example, in his first letter to the Thessalonians, he said:

"For our gospel did not come to you in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction; just as you know what kind of men we proved to be among you for your sakes" ~1 Thessalonians 1:5

I used to read that and think Paul was just talking about the inner work of the Holy Spirit in changing people's hearts so that they would be receptive to Paul's message. But when looking at it in light of 2 Corinthians 12, I'm not so sure if that's what he meant. Consider what he said to the Corinthians in an earlier letter.

"And when I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come as someone superior in speaking ability or wisdom, as I proclaimed to you the testimony of God. For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. I also was with you in weakness and fear, and in great trembling, and my message and my preaching were not in persuasive words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith would not rest on the wisdom of mankind, but on the power of God." ~1 Corinthians 2:2-5

In this passage, Paul says he came to them "in demonstration of the Spirit and of power," but in 2 Corinthians he says, speaking to the same audience, that he performed signs, wonders, and miracles (2 Corinthians 12:12). It's possible he's talking about two dististinct events, but I doubt it. I suspect when Paul refers to the "demonstration of the Spirit and of power" that accompanied his speech, he was talking about the signs and wonders he performed for the Corinthians.

When Paul wrote his letter to the Romans, he had not yet visited Rome. He was writing to a church he did not plant. But he explains his mission to gentiles in that letter. He says,

For I will not presume to speak of anything except what Christ has accomplished through me, resulting in the obedience of the Gentiles by word and deed, in the power of signs and wonders, in the power of the Spirit; so that from Jerusalem and all around as far as Illyricum I have fully preached the gospel of Christ." ~Romans 15:18-19

It looks like it was normal for Paul to present the gospel to people both in word and in demonstrations of the Spirit that manifest themselves in signs and wonders. That's a pretty bold thing for Paul to say, and it should be a little startling for us to read.

There is always room for doubt, but considering the fact that Paul claims on multiple occasions to different audiences that his preaching of the gospel was regularly accompanied by signs and wonders which were instrumental in the conversion of his audience, and he even says these thing to the very people who were the recipients of the message and the signs, that it almost definitely happened. Add to that Luke's account of Paul's miracles in Acts, and this strikes me as good evidence that Paul performed miracles. At the very least, if you're bent on being skeptical, Paul performed what he and his audience took to be miracles.

Is Last Thursdayism possible?

Last Thursdayism is the idea that all of us and the world around us just came into existence last Thursday. We have what appear to be memories of a past that pre-dates last Thursday because when we came into existence, our brains were formed in such a way as to contain those false memories.

Last Thursdayism isn't actually a belief a certain segment of the population believes in. It's mainly just used as a thought experiment to illustrate certain points. I've invoked it to illustrate how it's possible to know some things without being able to prove them. I can't prove that anything happened before last Thursday, but I'm nevertheless justified in thinking it did. However fallible my memory may be, it still justifies me in believing certain things about the past.

Last Thursdaism can't be disproved by some appeal to evidence because the world would look exactly the same whether it's true or false. Our memories would be exactly the same, too.

This thought experiment rests on the mere possibility of Last Thursdaism. A person might object to Last Thursdaism on the basis of something else they know by intuition--it's impossible for something to come from nothing. If it's impossible for something to come from nothing, then Last Thursdaism isn't possible.

Does this undermine the thought experiment? I don't think it does. First, I think Last Thursdaism can be offered as a logical possibility. Creation out of nothing isn't a logical impossibility. It's more of a metaphysical impossibility. So Last Thursdaism can be logically possible without being metaphysically possible.

Second, it depends on what you're using Last Thursdaism to illustrate. I use it to illustrate the fact that we can know some things without having to prove them. A person might object to my illustration by saying, "We know there's a past because creation out of nothing is impossible, so things couldn't have just popped into being fully formed." But the reality is that we all know there's a past, and our intuition about creation out of nothing has nothing to do with it. We don't reason from that intuition to our belief in the past. That makes the impossibility of creation out of nothing irrelevant to the illustration.

Third, as I've said in some previous posts, I don't think thought experiments necessarily have to describe possible states of affairs in order to do some work for us. Even if we grant that Last Thursdaism isn't possible (whether physically, logically, or metaphysically doesn't matter), we can imagine it being possible, and we can use that imaginary state of affairs to illustrate our point. It's similar to how Aristotle imagined a state of affairs in which the law of non-contradiction didn't hold in order to illustrate why we all know it does. His scenario wasn't possible, but it gets the point across.

Is the probability of a life-permitting universe really 100%?

I'm always a little reluctant to respond to the worst arguments when there are good arguments to respond to. I don't want to be accused of going after low-hanging fruit. But sometimes, like today, I'm motivated to respond to an argument because it's popular, and not because it's worth responding to on its own merits.

Today, I'm going to respond to an argument that has come up multiple times in conversations I've had and conversations I've witnessed about fine-tuning. It came up one time in a meet up group I was a part of. At the time, I thought the guy was joking, and maybe he was, but a lot of people are serious about it.

Fine-tuning is the idea that the free parameters in our physics equations have to fall within extremely narrow ranges before life can even be possible in our universe. Since there is such a narrow range of values the constants of nature have to fall into so the univere can be life-permitting, the probability that our universe would be life-permitting is extremely small.

The objection that sometimes comes up is that the probability that our universe is life-permitting is 100% because if it wasn't life-permitting, there wouldn't be any life, yet here we are. I don't mean to insult anybody, but people do make this argument seriously and think it's a good response to fine-tuning.

The problem with the argument is that it's looking at the wrong probability. The question for fine-tuning isn't whether our universe actually is life-permitting. Of course it is! The probability is 100% that our universe is life-permitting. The question, rather, is what the probability is that our universe (or any universe) would be life-permitting if it didn't have to be.

Let me use a lottery analogy. Since there are a large number of possible outcomes, there's a very small probability that any given ticket will have the right numbers. That's why you have such a small chance of winning the lottery. But suppose I won the lottery, and I said to my friend, "Wow! What are the chances that I would win the lottery?" And my friend said, "It's 100% probable because you won." We would know immediately that my friend was confused because I wasn't asking what the chances are that I did win the lottery, but what the chances are that I would win the lottery given all the possible outcomes? The answer to my real question is whatever the odds were that any given ticket would have the winning numbers.

The same thing is true with fine-tuning. The question isn't, "What are the odds that our universe is life-permitting?" but "What are the odds that our universe would be life permitting?" What are the chances that any random universe would be life-permitting given that there's a large range of possible values the constants could take and only a small life-permitting range? That's the question.

This seems so obvious to me that I wonder, of all the people who raise this objection to fine tuning, how many of them are being serious and how many are joking? I would likely think they were all joking if it weren't for the fact that people will dig their heels in about it and others will congratulate them for bringing it up. This might be the silliest argument I know against fine-tuning.

This is my pizza recipe

I make pretty good pizza. I came up with this through trial and error, and now I want to share it with you. But first, lemme share a picture of one of my pizzas just to get you in the mood.

How I make the dough

I used Tipo 00 pizza flour. The brand I like is called Anna Napoletana, but I'm sure other stuff works. It's finer than all purpose flour, and it has a higher protein/glucose content. If you can't find it, you can use bread flour. That's the next best thing. It's a little more coarse, but it has about the same protein content. As a last resort, you can use all purpose flour. I like King Arthur's. Here are the proportions I use (these are called baker's percentages):

Flour - 100%
water - 65%
salt - 2%
active dry yeast - 1%

I use these proportions because it makes it easy to remember, easy to calculate in my head, and it works. I have gone as high as 70% on the water content. It makes a good dough, but it's more difficult to work with. I usually make enough dough for two pizzas at a time. Or, if I'm making pizzas for some other people, I'll make enough for four. I'm just going to tell you what the measurements are for one pizza. You can just multiply this yourself if you want to make more.

Flour - 210 grams
water - 137 grams
salt - 4 or 5 grams
active dry yeast - 2 grams

It's a really good idea to get a digital scale so you can get these proportions exact. It also allows you to experiment by varying them a little and keeping track of what you did.

EDIT (8/8/2023): What the hey, I'll just do the math for you. . .

Two pizzas
Flour - 420 grams
water - 273 grams
salt - 8 or 9 grams
active dry yeast - 4 grams and maybe a smidge more

Three pizzas
Flour - 630 grams
water - 410 grams
salt - 13 grams
active dry yeast - 6 or 7 grams

Four pizzas
Flour - 840 grams
water - 546 grams
salt - 17 grams
active dry yeast - 8 or 9 grams

I mix that up in a bowl, then turn it out on the counter. I use a bowl scraper to get everything out. Then I mix it the rest of the way with my hands. As soon as it starts getting just a little sticky, I cover it with the bowl and walk away for 10 minutes. Then I come back and knead it until I get tired of kneading it. That's usually about five to ten minutes. Ideally, it will stop being sticky after a while. Do not add flour to it. If you want, you can let it rest another ten minutes and come back to kneading it. It should be less sticky that way. But kneading it ought to make it less sticky eventually.

Once it's fairly smooth and not so sticky anymore, put it in the bowl, cover it with plastic wrap, and stick it in the oven with the oven light on. Leave it in there until it doubles in size. It may take an hour or two, depending on how cold it is in your place. If your yeast isn't good anymore, it may not rise much at all. I keep my yeast in the refrigerator so it stays good longer.

Once it has doubled in size, take it out, and fold it over a few times, and turn it into a ball by tucking it under itself, stretching it. Then stick it back in the bowl, cover it, and stick it back in the oven until it doubles again.

This time, make your dough balls. First, put a little olive oil in a decent sized bowl. You can use tupperware if you want, but I prefer a bowl. Cut up the dough if you made enough for more than one pizza. Tuck it under itself over and over, stretching the top. There are YouTube videos showing how to do this part. It's easier show than to explain. Put the dough smooth size down in the olive oil, spin it around a little so the olive oil gets all over that side, then flip it over and spin it a little more. Put some plastic wrap over that, but not too tight because you want it to have room to rise a little.

Leave that out a few minutes - no more than 5 or 10 - then stick it in the refrigerator. Leave it in there for two days. You can use it after one day or even three or four days, but it's best after two days.

How I make the sauce

I get one of those big cans of San Marzano whole peeled tomatoes. You can fish the tomatoes out with your hand if you want to, but I just pour the whole thing into a mixing bowl and use it all. You can use a hand blender if you want. I prefer not to because it's too easy to over do it. If you over do it, it'll be too runny. I prefer to squeeze the tomatoes with my hand and just mush them up. I want it to be slightly chunky, and doing it with my hand gets just the right consistency.

We want to add some ingredients to it for flavour. I don't usually measure my ingredients, but I guess I'll give you some measurements to get you in the ballpark. There's lots of flexibility in these proportions, though.

Olive oil - No more than a quarter of a cup. Probably a little less.
Sea salt - I'm not really sure how much. Maybe 10 grams.
Oregano - I use that dry stuff you buy in a shaker and just about cover the top of my sauce. It's a lot.
Garlic - I use two or three cloves. I don't know what you call it, but I rub them against this little grater thingy.
Red pepper - I'm not really sure how much red pepper I put in there. Just take a guess, then taste it and see if you like it.

I told you I was going to give you some measurements, but I didn't really do that, did I? Sorry. It's subjective, but it's unlikely you'll create a disaster.

Anywho, put that in some tupperware and put it in the refrigerator.

I've complained about the fact that this makes so much sauce it commits me to having to eat nothing but pizza for two weeks. It's enough sauce for about ten pizzas. It has been suggested to me that I freeze it in little zip lock snack bags so I can take them out one at a time to use it. I've tried that, and it always ruins the sauce. It makes it runny, and it's just never as good. You can try it, though.

How I put my pizza together

On the day I make the pizza, I take the dough out of the refrigerator about two hours before it's time to make it. I sprinkle a little flour on top of it, and some flour on the counter or cutting board. I scoop it out with my bowl scraper, and gently put it smooth side down on the flour I sprinkled on the counter. I don't put any flour on the rough side which should be facing up. I cover it with a big bowl and let it sit for two hours, or thereabouts.

At least an hour before I'm ready to make the pizza, I turn my oven on to the highest temperature it will go. Where I used to live, that was 500ºF. I've made pizza at other people's houses, though, and theirs only got up to 450ºF, which was a bummer. Anyway, the point here is to heat up your pizza stone. You need to have a pizza stone.

Now that the oven is hot, and the dough has come to room temperature and risen a little, it's time to put the pizza together.

You're going to need a pizza peel. I put a dusting of flour on the pizza peel so the pizza doesn't stick. A lot of people like to use semonila, and that's probably better. You can use corn meal if you want, but I'm not crazy about that. The idea is just to make sure the pizza doesn't stick to the peel.

Now we need to stretch the dough. Again, this is easier to show than to explain, so watch some YouTube videos. Basically, I use my finger tips to push down the middle of the dough and out toward the edge. I leave the edges fluffy. Do not use a rolling pin like some idiots do because you'll destroy your crust. Once the middle is pushed down, and the puffy perimeter is pretty even, I pick it up and begin to stretch it. I lay it over one hand, pull a little with the other, then rotate it, and pull again. As it grows, I'll put my knuckles under it and stretch it out a little more. If I'm feeling it, I'll toss it in the air and spin it.

Once you're done playing with the dough, put it on the pizza peel. Now stetch it by pushing it, pulling it, or whatever you have to do to get it nice and round. If you dusted your peel like you should have, this step should be easy.

Now take a big plastic spoon, scoop some pizza sauce, and pour it in the middle. Use the back of the spoon to spread it. Start in the middle, and make circles, getting bigger and bigger each time you go all the way around until you've spread the sauce pretty evenly over the pizza. A lot of people use too much sauce when they're just learning to make pizza. Again, I can't really explain how much to use. It's easier to show.

Considering how much I say that, maybe I just need to make a YouTube video.

Anyway, pick up the pizza peel and shake it back and forth a little bit to make sure the pizza slides without sticking. If it doesn't, lift it close to where it's not sliding and throw some flour under there, and try again. Once you get it sliding well, slide it onto that pizza stone. You can really mess up here. Don't freak out if you mess up the first time. After you do it a few times, it gets easy. You can make it perfectly round.

Keep that oven light on and watch it. When the edges just barely start to change colour, take it out using the pizza peel.

At this point, you can put whatever you want on it. I almost always put some parmesan on it first. Sometimes, I just put fresh mozzarella on it and nothing more. If you get shredded mozzarella from the grocery store, it's not going to be that great. Fresh mozerella is awesome possum. Other times, I'll cut up some ham and put it on there, and I might put some pineapple on it. That's how I roll. I've also been known to put mushrooms on it. Anchovies and pineapple go well together. The contrast of the saltiness with the sweetness is good. I might even put some sauteed onions on it. You just never know. One thing I don't do is pile on a whole bunch of different toppings. I use two at the most. If I make it for other people, I'll put sausage or pepperoni on it, but I'm not crazy about that. Get some fresh mozzerella if you can find it. It is possible to make it, though, and there are YouTube videos about it. Just tear it up with your hand and put it on the pizza.

Stick that back on the pizza stone, and cook it until all the cheese is melted and the crust is a nice golden brown. I can't give you a time because I don't know how the laws of physics operate in your particular oven. But just watch it. You know what a pizza is supposed to look like when it's done.

Once it's done, take it out, put it on a rack, let it cool a couple of minutes. At this point, I'll sometimes put some fresh basil on it. It goes great with a plain cheese pizza. Finally, transfer it to a cutting board, cut it up, and eat it.

You're welcome.

Are philosophical zombies coherent?

One argument against thought experiments involving philosophical zombies is that philosophical zombies are incoherent, and I half way agree with that.

Consider two people, both named Bob. To distinguish them we'll call them Bob Normal (Bob_N) and Bob Zombie (Bob_Z). Physically, Bob_N and Bob_Z are identical. Atom per atom, they are exactly alike. They look the same, behave the same, say the same things, etc. To keep them from occupying the same space at the same time, let's put them in separate worlds that are also identical.

Identical, that is, with one exception. Bob_N is conscious and Bob_Z is not.

Some folks think this is an incoherent scenario, and I agree. It's incoherent whether you assume physicalism or dualism. Let me explain why each scenario is incoherent.

Let's assume physicalism

If physicalism is true, and Bob_N is conscious, that would mean the physical structure of Bob_N's brain is what's giving rise to his conscious experiences. If Bob_Z has the exact same physical structure as Bob_N, then it would be impossible for Bob_Z not to be conscious. That makes the scenario incoherent.

Let's assume dualism is true

If dualism is true, then the explanation for why Bob_N is conscious and Bob_Z isn't is because Bob_N has a soul and Bob_Z doesn't. Much of Bob_N's behavior is the result of causal interactions between his brain and his soul. Since Bob_Z doesn't have a soul, the same interactions are not going on in his head, and it is impossible that they behave the same way. That makes the scenario incoherent.

So either way you look at it, a scenario in which Bob_N and Bob_Z are physically identical and behave in exactly the same way is an incoherent scenario.

So how can the idea of a philosophical zombie contribute anything to the subject of dualism vs. physicalism? Some arguments rely on the possibility or conceivability of philosophical zombies to make their point, but I don't think that's necessary. A hypothetical scenario doesn't have to be possible to serve as an illustration. For example, Aristotle imagined what a world would be like without the law of non-contradiction. There would be no significant or meaningful speech or action in such a world. His point doesn't depend on such a world being possible.

In the same way, I think philosophical zombies can be invoked to illustrate how physicalism leads to epiphenominalism which, in turn, undermines physicalism, even if philosophical zombies are impossible. Here's a basic outline of the argument.

If physicalism is true, then all of our behavior (including our vocalizations) can be accounted for solely by reference to the third person properties of the brain and its parts, plus the laws of nature. You can explain exhaustively why somebody behaves in a particular way without ever referring to anything like a motive, belief, idea, desire, thought, plan, perception, etc. With that being the case, our behavior would be exactly the same even if these first person experiences didn't exist. Nevermind whether it's possible for them not to exist given our actual brain states. The point is that if our behavior would be the same in their absense, that means they don't contribute to our behavior. But that is absurd, so physicalism is false.

One objection somebody might raise to the above argument is that explaining behavior in terms of physics vs. psychology are just two ways of explaining the same thing. They are two layers of abstraction. It's similar to the difference between explaining the output of the computer in terms of functions like addition and subtractions as opposed to explaining it in terms of current, voltage, and the properties of electrons and various computer components.

But the same thing applies here. It is not because two and two actually make four that your calculator spits out that result. It would spit out that result even if the circuits didn't happen to represents the number two or the process of addition. You can program a computer to spit things out that are meaningful to us, but their meaning is irrelevant to the process by which the computer spits it out. It takes a conscious engineer and programmer to make a computer that spits out what, to us, is meaningful information.

In the same way, even if conscious experience is somehow the same thing as physical brain stuff obeying the laws of physics, it wouldn't matter one bit what those conscious expereiences are about. If some brain state associated with a sensation of burning resulted in jerking your hand away from a hot skillet, it would result in that same behavior even if it happened that the brain state was associated with a different conscious experience or no conscious experience at all. Under phyiscalism, it isn't by virtue of what our conscious experiences are about that results in our behavior. Rather, it's just the underlying physical substrate that produces our behavior whether the associated conscious experiences were about something different or absent altogether.

And that's just cray cray. I think the philosophical zombie thought experiment is useful to illustrate this even if they are not actually possible for the reasons I gave above.

Besides all that, it seems to me that artificial intelligence shows how something like a philosophical zombie could exist. Something resembling a human could exist that behaves just like a human, including having conversations and showing physiological behavior we usually associate with expressions of emotion without actually being conscious. If such a machine ever became conscious, we'd probably have no way to know it.